.^3 8 Si^ 



MIRANDA: 
A TOWN IDYL 



A DRAMA IIS^ THREE ACTS. 



Adapted for the Sta^e from "Miss Hitchcock's Wedding Dress." 



By LUCY M. SCMLEY. 



Affectionatt-ly Jnsrrihfd to Mrs. Edaoard Sanderson. 



MILWAUKEE: 

Cramek, Aikens it Ckambr, Kook and Jor. Printers. 

1876. 



MIRANDA: 
A TOWN IDYL 



A DEAMA IIN^ THREE ACTS, 



Adapted for the Stage from " Miss Hitolicook's Wedding Dress." 



By LUCY M. SCHJLEY 



Affeclionately Inscrlbdd to Mrs. Edzvard Sanderson. 




MILWAUKEE: 

CkAMEK, AlKENS & C'KAMbK, Louiv AND JoiS PuiNTtKa 
1876. 



T 






DRAMATIS PERSONS 



MIRANDA MAXAYELL. 

MISS HITCHCOCK 

LADY LESLIE. 

LADY Maria LESLIE— Her Daughter, 

MRS. GREEN— A Lqdging-House Keeper. 

M'ME. la GAI— a French Modiste. 

MAID. 

LADIES, Etc. 



ARTHUR CRESSINGHAM. 

MR. GAUNT— An Artist. 

MR. HITCHCOCK— Miss Hitchcock's Father. 

FRANK BUCKLAND. 

PAGE. 

GENTLEMEN, COACHMAN, SERVANTS, Etc. 



The Scene is laid in London^ at the present time. 



A TOWN IDYL. 



Act First — Scene First. 

(Little back parlor at Mrs, Green'' s lodging-house^ littered with unmade dresses^ 
sewing machine, cutting -hoard, dress hung over mirror, etc. Books on table ; 
Canary and flowers in tuindoiu. Door opens at back of stage, and Mrs. Green 
appears, with Mr. Gaunt — evidently shoiving him over the house.) 

Mrs. Green. — 'Taint no particular use showing you this 'ere hapart- 
ment, seeing 'taint to be let for love nor money — leastways, His let for love 
already — [aside) bless their 'earts ! — so can't be let for money. But I'm one 
of the kind as goes in for not doing things by 'alves, specially to first floor 
lodgers (curtseys), so you may as well look at this, along with the rest. 

Mr. Gaunt, (adjusting spectacles and looking around) — Hump ! Much 
obliged, I'm sure ! Queer place ; looks like a dry goods shop struck by light- 
ning. (Sharply) — Of course the female inhabitant is blind? 

Mrs. Green. — Bless us ! What put that into your 'ead, sur ! 

Mr. Gaunt, (dryly) — The looking-glass is covered up, that's all. 

Mrs. Green, (aside, indignantly) — There's a insinawatiri' old bacheldore for 
you ! ( With dignity) — You're mistaken, sur. The young ladies which occupy 
this apartment 'ave four as pretty and observin' eyes between 'em, as ever 
you've sot your spectacles onto! (Chuckling aside) — 7'Aere's a insinewation 
for him ! 

Mr. Gaunt, (examining things) — Hump ! Young, are they ? And from 
the looks of things, rather given over to the pomps and vanities of life. Oh, 
woman, woman, in your hours of ease, to spend your time on*hings like these ! 
And, apropos of poetry, here's some ! [Picks up books.) Something "sweet- 
ly pretty," of course, or "deliciously wicked."' ( Opens books.) Hullo, what's 
this ? Tennyson and Browning, with a pair of scissors for a mark in one, and 
a needle-case in the other ; and, as I live, not a pencil-mark anywhere ! Why 
they are a pair of prodigies, these lodgers of yours, Mrs. Green. 

Mrs. Green, (severely) — I'd thank you not to be calling names promiscuous, 
if you please, sur ! Nobody shall call them two poor dears anything but the 
nicest mannered, industriousest young ladies that ever drew the breath o" life, 
as long as Sarah Green has a tongue to wag back ! Prodigals, indeed ! not if 
he was ten times a first floor lodger ! 

Mr. Gaunt, (politely) — I beg ten thousand pardons, madam! I've no 
doubt they are ornaments to their sex, since you say so, and paragons of every 
virtue but neatness ! Still you must admit that this room is not exactlj^ ship- 
shape. 

Mrs. Green, (hotly) — And I'd like to know what sort of a room anybody^ 
would be if they had to get up at six every morning, and sew, sew, till the 
eyes were like to drop out of their heads, the whole blessed day, month in and 
month out ! To see the way them poor dears toil and moil to put the bare bread 
into their mouths, and them born ladies, too, which was used to everyt^iing 
most helegant 'till their pa died, is enough to draw tears from a n arble man- 
tle-piece — so it is ! And many's the time I've choked up .to see 'em a sitting 
down so cheerful and merry-like to a dinner as wouldn't 'ave been a square 
mouthful for my .Johnny ! 

Mr. Gaunt, (embarrassed) — I beg your pardon, ma'am — I'm sure I didn't 
mean to — I'd no idea of hurting your feelings. 



Mrs. Oreen — 1 don't suppose you bad, sur. and I'm an old fool : and I 'ope 
you'll take no notice. But the fact is, I knew tlie young ladies before they 
■were born — leastwayg when Miss Sophy wasn't that high ; as sweet a little 
miss as ever rode a pony no bigger than a dog, with long, yaller curls and 
round blue eyes 

Mr. Gaunt, {interjecting) — By Jove ! What a phenomenon ! 

Mrs. Green ^and it goes dreadfully agin the grain to see 'em a work- 
ing just as if they hadn't lords and ladies for their kin-folk, and might be a 
riding in chariots if they wasn't so independent. {Noise outside, llrs. Green 
looks out at backdoor.) There they are on the Landing, now — Miss Sophy 
tired out, poor lamb, and going up to her bed-room ; and little Missy, just as 
chirp and twittery as if she hadn't sat up 'till past midnight, finishing off 
Miss Hitchcock's wedding dress. {Hurriedly, pushing Mr. Gaunt towards R. 
D.) Please to go out that door, sur, and don't let on as I took the liberty to 
bring you here ; Miss Sophy ain't accustomed to liberties ! 

Mr. Gaunt, {laughing) — Hullo! what an irresistible woman it is, to be 
sure ! 

\^Exit Mr. Gaunt. R. D. Enter Miranda. C. D., in walking costume, carry- 
ing a large paste-board box.'\ 

Miranda — Here I am at last, Mrs. Green, and here's a whole box-full of 
loveliness to finish the dress with. But we needn't have worked so hard, after 
all, for Mme. La Gai says the wedding is postponed again, and the dress won't 
be wantod for ever so long, 

Mrs. G. {helping her off ivith her things) — So now you can take a rest. Miss 
Mirandy, and save up the bloom in them pretty cheeks of yours. *• 

Miranda, '{gaily) — Rest? What do I want rest for? Pm never tired ! 
Its only poor sister Sophy who gets pale and worn out, and that's because she 
is always remembering. My maxim in life is — Don^t remember! {Beginning 
to open box and take out dress, /lowers, etc.) Why, do you know, at Mme. La 
Gai's, this afternoon, while she was decorating the show case, some customers 
came in and began to talk of the beautiful scenery in Brentfordshire, and es- 
pecially a little lake they'd seen, with a tiny, white church on the bank, and a 
parsonage near it, covered with vines, and a winding path leading up the hill 
to the little cemeftry, where the tall, stone cross shone in the sunset light. 
It was our home, Mrs. Green, and by that very cross George and Sophy part- 
ed, when he went to India, ten years ago. I saw poor sissy was remembering, 
for she turned so white, and staggered into a chair. Mme. La Gai saw it, too, 
and made her lie down, and brought her a glass of wine, and was just as 
good and kind as she coiild be. But, indeed, everybody is kind to us, I 
think ! 

Mrs. G. — And I'd like to see the individdle who'd 'ave the 'eart to be any- 
thing else — to a smiling lamb like you ! 

Miranda, {holding up wreath of flowers) — There, did you ever see anything 
daintier than that, Mrs. Green ? It's just the very poetry of mantua-making ! 
I'm so glad Mme. La Gai gives us such pretty things to do. It's just like 
singing a song, or reading a verse from Tennyson — to put all these airy, ex- 
quisite things together. And then, Wb n wedding dress, too, yon know, for a 
happy bride to wear, on the very happiest day of all her life. Don't you like 
to think how pretty and shy she'll look, and how proud her husband will be of 
her ? 

Mrs. G. {doubtfully) — AVell there are brides and brides, you know. Miss. 
Some are pictures to look at ; and some, again, pucker up your face like lem- 
ons, they're so awful sour. They do say Miss Hitchcock is of the puckerin' 
kind ! 

Miranda, {earnestly) — Now don't say that, Mrs. Green : it really hurts me 
to have you say that ! I've thought of her so much while I've been making 
her wedding dress, that I've really grown to love her. And I don't believe it, 
either! Mme. La Gai said she was quite young, and her lover, Mr. Creasing- 



ham, is the most talented and handsome young gentleman in London ; and 
they've been engaged ever so long. So, even if she is not a l)oatity, she must 
look young and happy, and happiness in a face is the prettiest tiling theie is, 
you know. 

Mrs. G. — Well, I never see'd her but once, in church, and it may have been 
dyspepsy, or perhaps them stained glass windows, which gave her a blue fore- 
head and a yaller nose, and striped her chin, and wasn't generally ))ccoming : 
but she struck me as being the most onimnlhi' young person I'd ever had the 
bad fortune to see. But as for young Mr. Crcssingham, he may 1)0 vei'y hand- 
some, and all that, but for my jjart, 1 haven't much opinion of money .teckers ! 

MiKANDA — What do you mean, Mrs. Green ? 

Mrs. G. — Oh, my meaning's plain enough ! Miss Hitchcock viayn' t be 
pretty, or loveable, but then she's got £.50,000 to her fortune, and that's a 
beautifier to most men. Phew ! 1 hate such marriages ! They five me a 
bad taste iu-my mouth ! 

Miranda — Poor thing, poor thing!. I'm fonder of her than ever, now ! 
Don't you suppose if we make the dress nery pretty and becoming, it may help 
her to win her husband's heart ? 

Mrs. G. — Oh, as for that, it's little she cares about hearts^ I reckon. My 
cousin is maid to Miss Hitchcock, and she says it's an even bargain — he's 
mari-ying her for her money, and she's marrying him because it's fun to lead 
him around, like a bear at a show, and make all the other young ladies envi- 
ous. And a mighty cross bear he is too, sometimes, and cuts up uncommon 
rough, when she snubs him before folks. 

Miranda, {%vith dignity) — Please don't tell me anything more your cousin 
may have seen, Mrs, Green. I don't like to spy into people's secrets, ( Mrs. 
Green turns aioay, offended; 3Iiranda springs after and embraces Iter.) There, 
1 did not mean to offend you, you dear, kind friend, you ! I only meant that 
perhaps Miss Hitchcock wouldn't like to have us discuss her affairs so freely. 
Please don't look criss cross at me ! 

Mrs. G. {pleasantly) — There, there,^my heart couldn't hold anger agin 
you any more than a seive would hold beer ! But it's time to be off to my 
kitchen. Nancy is that stupid she never can dish up proper, without me, and 
I left the front floor a clamoring for their suppers. Besides, there's Mr. 
Gaunt, a new gent., came this afternoon, and he took the first floor and paid 
me down a week's rent in a handsome way, that's made mp think a devilled 
kidney is a compliment he'd appreciate ; so I'm off to cook it. Now don't 'ee, 
Miss, sit up 'till all hours. Go to bed at one?, like a sensible lamb, do. 

Miranda — Oh, but I couldn't, jossibly ! I've coaxed sister off for a good 
long rest, and just as soon as these flowers are tacked on, I'm going to give 
myself a real treat with Tennyson. Oh, how good it was of him to publish 
himself at last for six shillings, so even I could get him for my own ! 

Mrs. G. — Lord, Lord ! And to think of all them books in your pa's study ! 

Miranda — But I dont think of them ; and you mustn't cither. It's a sin 
to remember, when it makes us sad! Good night I Good night I (Seizing 
Tennyson.) I'm going to have such, a treat ! 

Mrs. G. — Good night ! you little sunbeam, you ! \^Exit 3frs. Green, c. J.] 

Miranda, {spreadiiig out dress and looking at it) — How lovely it is ; all ripi- 
ples and shimmer, like shining snow ! Only happy young things should wear 
a dress like that, A heavy heart could not bear the weight of it, for all it's so 
airy and light. And / am young, too ! How strange it must seem to be 
young, in satin and lace. Tfiis {.wioothing her cum dress) is mousline delaine! 
{Takes up satin, dress.) And it's just my height. Sophy said Mis« Hitch- 
cock's figure was just like mine. Suppose, — suppose? {lai.glis) why not 1 It 
wouldn't do anybody any harm. I was going to read a poem to-night, — why 
not ie one, — for a little bit of a minute? Sophy's asleep : {tries door,) the 
door's locked, — I will ! {Steps into I. d., puts on white skirts, etc, then puts on 
wedding dress and walks up a7id doiun, admiring train. Business.) Now I'm 



Mrs. Arthur Cressingliam, nee. Miss Hitchcock, — no, I'm myself, as Fd like to 
be! {Uncovers mirror and looks at herself.) Oh, you pretty creature! oh, 
you darling ! how I love you ! [Kisses herself in glass. Business.) But, dear 
me ! I'm like a peacock, with these black shoes on ; [begins to take of shoes,) 
they don't harmonize, at all ; they are a false quantity in the measure, and 
poetry mustn't have false quantities ; [opens drawer,) but here are some white 
satin shoes ; I almost forgot sissy had them, and so has she, I suppose ; and 
here's the party-cloak she wore to the county-ball, so many years ago ; dear, 
dear, how dreadful it must be to have things liappen years and years ago ! 
And here are poor mamma's diamonds ! How lucky that sissy would'nt sell 
them that hard winter when work was so scarce. Now just wait, you silly, 
ridiculous creature, you, till I finish your toilet ! ( While putting on diamonds 
soft tvaltz music is heard. She stops and listens.) Oh, it's a party in the 
grand house next door. [Turns doum the lamp and lifts curtain Jrom ivindow, 
standing on one side; strong light from without falls on her figure. Moving figures 
seen beyond. Tableau.) Lady Gregory lives there, and they are having a grand 
ball. How happy and bright they look. See them smile and bow. There's a 
young girl in white : [suddenly,) why, Fm in white, too ; I'm dressed just as 
they are : I might run in among them and laugh, and talk, and be happy, just 
as they are ; [claps her hands and laughs,) why not? What fun it would be, 
just to run down our steps and up theirs, and go to a party at last ; a real 
party, like you read of in books ! Nobody would know, — I'd only stay a min- 
ute, — and it would be something to remember forever and ever,' that would?}'' t 
make me sad. Shall I, shall I ? [A loud strain of music) Oh, I must ; it's 
fairy-land, and it's calling me, — "the horns of elf-land, faintly blowing," — I 
must, I must I [Exit hurriedly, I. d. Curtain falls.) 

[During the necessary interlude the orchestra plays soft loaltz music, ivithout 
stopping. ) 



Act First — Scene Second. 



(Ball-room in Lady Gregory'' s house ; bay window opening on balcony at rear,, 
hung with heavy curtains; Lady Gregory receiving guests in left corner of stage; 
couples in full evening dress, promenading in rear; Miss Hitchcock seated in 
right hand corner, alone, looking off very haughtily; Mr. Cressingliam standing 
farther back on same side, alone, looking in opposite direction, also haughty; 
Lady Maria Leslie in center of stage, surrounded by her mother and several gen- 
tlenien, asking for dances, in pantomime; waltz music.) 

1st Gentleman, [sauntering by tvith lady on arm) — Put me down for a 
prance. Lady Maria. 

Lady M. [manishly, writ'ing name on card) — All right, Ned ; No. 1, and 
mind you are here on time, — "No seats reserved after the first act," you 
know. ( Gentleman writes name on card and walks off.) 

Lady M. [to Mr. Buckland, ivho has asked for a dance, in pantomime) — No, 
Frank, let me oft' this time : do, there's a good fellow ! That last caracole of 
ours 'bout did me up ; and you're as fresh as a daisy ! I vow, it's awfully 
hard lives on us girls, the way you men have everything, — cigars, and cock- 
tails, and muscle, and everytliing ! 

Lady Leslie, [reprovingly) — My dear ! 

Lady M. (sharply) — Now, mumscy, don't " my dear" me. You know it's 
the crowning sorrow of my life tliat I wasn't born a boy : and I'll never ge 
over it, never! Com?. Frank, give us your door knob and let's take a prow\. 
[Takes arm.) 

Lady L. [shocked) — My dear ! 



Lady M. [gaily going off) — Expressive, aiut they, mumsey ? Lady Claude 
Malvers invented "door-knob" instead of "jug-handle," yo\i know, — that's 
played, — and I invented "prowl." Wo consider ourselves quite literary char- 
acters on the strength of them, and are going to invent some more. 

Lady L. {helplessly) — My dear ! {Lady M. and Mr. Buckland promenade 
round the stage in animated panlomimic conversation. Mr. Hitchcock joins Lady 
Leslie. Music plays. Lady M. and Mr. Buckland pause as they pass Miss 
Hitchcock. Music stops.) 

Lady M. — Enjoying yourself, as usual, I see, Hannah. 

Miss Hxtcucock, {wearily) — Yes, as usual, watching you all make fools of 
yourselves. 

Lady M. {sarcastically) — Glad we've got such an appreciative audience, I'm 
sure; ain't you, Mr. Buckland I Can't you induce Mr. Cressingham to come 
and help you make a feol of yourself, Hannah, dear? You don't know what 
fun it is . 

Miss H. {coldly) — Thanks. I'm not ambitious of learning, — "where igno- 
rance is bliss," you know. 

Lady M. — Thank the Lord, our ideas of bliss ditter, then ! {To partner.^ 
moving off\) Don't she look like a female Robinson Crusoe, cast away on that 
desert island of a sofa ? 

Mr. Buckland — That was rather a hard hit you gave her, Lady Maria. 

They do say Mr. Cressingham is not particularly strong in the role of liemeo. 

Lady M. {shrugging shoulders) — Lord, Lord! Don't expect miracles of a 

man. Think of /w/- as Juliet ! { Both laugh and music recommences. As they 

reach Lady Leslie., music stops- They pause.) 

Lady M. {aside to Mr. Buckland) — There's command in the maternal optic. 
What's up now? {3Ir. Hitchcock advaiiccs towards her.) Alas, and alack! 
Here's my antediluvian adorer, toddling along on his rickety old pins. Away 
with you, Francis, my boy. You're only ensign in the Guards, and here's 
Monsieur Moneybags, looking out for a wife. 

Mr. B. {holding her hand earnestly) — Do you really mean me to go. Lady 
Mai'ia ? 

Lady M. (gaily, icifhdraunng hand) — Do I really like diamonds, and Pai-is 
dresses, and plenty ef chocolate creams 1 Yes, Mr. Buckland, I really mean 
you to go. There, don't pout and tug at that pretty moustache. It looks im- 
pressive, but the ink is coming off on your glove. There, take a little tete-a- 
tete with Miss Hitchcock yonder, and make my cousin Arthur jealous. He, 
he, he ! {Turns towards Mr. Hitchcock.) 

Mr. B. {looking after her) — Spiteful, heartless, fascinating little wretch. 
That's the ticket, is it ? But thank you for the suggestion, my lady. It's not 
half a bad one. Frank Buckland likes angling for gold fish, too. {Joins Miss 
Hitchcock, who receives him coldly, in pajitomime.) 

Mr. Hitchcock, {pompously to Lady M.) — Will the fairest of her sex make 
the humblest of her slaves unutterably happy ? 

Lady M. {shortly) — AVill I dance with you, do you mean, Mr. Hitchcock? 
Of course. 

Lady L. {horrified) — My dear ! 

Mr. H. — Your daughter is so charmingly naive, so frank, dear Lady Leslie, 
don't rebuke her. She is never so bewitching as when she is just a little — 
ah — a trifle — um — what shall I call it ? 

Lady M. — Rude, I suppose you mean. I'm glad you're so easily pleased ; 
it saves me the trouble of pretending politeness. Ta, ta, mumsey. I'll bring 
you back what's left of me, to put together again. The galop is rather hard 
on flounces, you knew. Of course you want to galop, Mr. Hitchcock ? That 
was the fashionable dance before the flood, I believe. {Lady Leslie holds up 
her hands in horror, and murmurs ''''My dear,'' inaudibly. Mr. Hitchcock laughs 
uneasily, and leads Lady Maria off to rear of stage.) 

{Mr. Cressingham advances a step towards centre of stage, looking earnestlg at 



door. Hie couple on the sofa watch him, and see dliranda entering, in the wake of 
Mrs. Nesbitt and her two dauf/hters. Sensation. Everybody looks at her, and a 
murmur of '"''bcautifid^^ ^''charminy^'' ''''who is she 9''' is heard. 3Iiranda bows to 
Lady Gregory, as the others do, and still folloming Mrs. Nesbitt and daughters, 
advances to centre of stage. Several gentlemen join the group, asking the Misses 
Nesbitt for dances, but no one speaks to Miranda, who stands a little aloof, look- 
ing around with a .surprised, delighted air, quite unconscious of admiration. Mr. 
Cressingham advances and offers his arm. ) 

Lr. C. — May I have the pleasure 1 {At same instant Miss Nesbitt accepts a 
gentleman'' s arm, and Miranda follows her example, slipping her hand into Mr. 
C.'s arm.) 

Mr. C. {leading her to left side of stage)— You will excuse my not "waiting foi' 
an introduction ; I am Lady Gregory's nephew. 

Miranda, {simply} — Are you, really ? 

Mr. C. — Yes ; so, although I have not had the pleasure, I thought I might 
venture to assume the privileges of the host. 

Miranda, {looking around) — How beautiful it is ! — the flowers, the music ! 
Do you always live like this ? 

Mr. C. — Yes, always ; of course. 

Miranda, {sighing) — You must be very hapjjy. — How different lives are ! 
And all the girls are pretty ! 

Mr. C. {gallantly) — It is not in that you find the difference l 

Miranda, {looking at him) — It is in everything. But, ah, you don^t under- 
stand ; how should you ? 

Mr. C. — I think I do, though. This is your first ball, is it net ? 

Miranda, {gaily) — That it ? Well, yes ; it is my first ball. 

Mr. C.—So I see. I think, also, this is your first visit to London. You 
come from some delightful country home, — a parsonage, perhaps ; {looking 
down at dress) no, not that ; but some bright, flower-covered dwelling ; and 
yov are new to town and town gaities. 

Miranda, {laughing) — Oh, you are a wizard, doubtless, and know ever and 
ever so much. But you can't guess where I come from, and why it is all so 
different to me, — so beautiful, — so wonderful, — ^just like a living, breathing 
poem ! 

Mr. C. {looking around scornfully) — A poem ! This a poem ] It seems to 
me the dullest, most sordid prose in all the world. 

Miranda, {musingly) — Can the lives in the different planets be more differ- 
ent than the different lives in this ] 

Mr. C. {earnestly) — And can the girls in the dift'erent planets be more dif- 
ferent than the different girls in this ? 

Miranda — Are they ? But, no ; girls are really all alike. It's only the 
dresses that make the difference. 

Mr. C. {looking puzzled) — As now 9 

Miranda, {confidentially) — /, for instance. Don't I look like them all now 1 
And if you could only see me at home ! Why, I had not the least idea what I 
was like. 

Mr. C. {smiling) — You mean in such splendid plumage ! Still, at home, I 
don't suppose you are exactly a Cinderella 1 

Miranda — But that's just what I am, — a regular Cinderella. — Dear Cin- 
derella ! Don't you love her ? 

Mk.. C. — The Cinderella of the story-book, do you mean .^ or her lovely 
counterpart? {Aside.) Now for coquetry, of course. 

Miranda, {gravely) — I thing you are laughing at me, sir. 

Mr. C. {hurriedly) — Indeed, I am not. And have you the wicked sisters, 
too? 

Miranda— Oh, dear, no! Poor, dear Sophy! What a shame! And 
ye^, — yes ; partly that ; for she would be surprised to see me here, 

Mr. C. — Sophy being your sister, I suppose ? 



9 

Miranda — Of course. 1 call her little niotlicr, too, soiiiL'times, becjiuse our 
real mother is dead, aud she is so good to iiic, aud so old, — at least ten yearo 
older than I am. 

Mr. C. — Poor old lady ! She must hardly be able to totter around. {Bolli 
laugh.) And the slipper; don't forget tlie slipper! 1 am the Prince, of 
course. 

Miranda— As to that, — see ! ( Lifts ■•<kirl slnjkihi and dLapLaiis buols.) 

Mr C. — Buots ! But never mind ; I shall nut need a sli)>p(!r to truce you 
by. How 1 should like to find you some morning, among ymir cinders. May 
I try ? 

Matilda, (deinureli/) — Oh, yes ; certainly , you may try. 

Mb. C— When next I call upon Mrs. Nesbitt, 1 shall gu down the area .steps 
into the kitchen. 

Miranda — Will you >. That will be very humble of you. liut why ? 

Mr. C. — Whij 9 Why, to find Cinderella among her cinders. ♦ 

Miranda, {'lookinj aruundUill her ei/e falls upon Mrs. Nesbitt)— Oh, I see,— 
yes, — Mrs. Nesbitt,— of course. (Laughs softli/. A couple waltz by them, the 
lady with her head nearly touching the ijenlleman' s shoulder. Parody on fashion- 
able icaltzing.) 

Miranda — My gracious ! She"s sick ; she's going to faint ! 

Mr. C. {alarmed)--\yho I AVhat I 

Miranda — That lady ; see ! Oh, why don't somebody go to her ? He has 
to hold her up in his arms. Poor girl ! How mortified sheVl be, if she knew 
it. Why, her head is nearly on his shoulder ! {Watches them eagerly. Mr. 
C. watches her.) 

Mr. C, {a.mle)— Is she acting ? Or is it divine innocence ? 

Miranda, {relieved)— Theve, he's seating her, and she seems quite recov- 
ered. Poor girl ! I shouldn't think her mother would let her walti, if it 
makes her so giddy. 

Mr. C. {aside)— Is it the perfection of satire .' Surely, surely, she is not 

acting ? 

UiRANUA, {tvho has been gazing around)— 'Ihere^no-w; I always told sissy 

fashionable novels were a libel on fashionable life. {Mr. C looks surprised.) 
You know they say people in high life never have any real feelings, or if they 
do, it's dreadfully ill-bred to show them,— especially if it's lovc- 

Mr. C— Yes,— well ? 

UiRANUA, (cnnHclentially)— Rush] Don't look around; it might embar- 
rass them. But 'jus* behind me are a pair of lovers, making love to each 
other just as hard! ('h, you needn't smile. I saw them look at each other, 
and he whispered something in her ear, just as they do in story-books, you 

know. 

Mr C— AVhat do you mean the lady in pink ? Why, it's Mrs. Danvers 
and Lieut. Cornell. Oh, that's too good ! They do seem to be going it rath- 
er steep, that's a fact And here comes her lord and master, green with jeal- 
ousy, as usual. ,,.,,- . ^ , 

Miranda, {surprised)— Mrs. Danvers,— Lieut. Cornell ? \ ou are mistaken, 
sir She's not a married lady. They are lovers. I saw him kiss her hand. 

Mr. C. {aside)— Good Lord! It's an angel of innocence, dropped down 
from heaven ! {Aloud, hurriedly) Of course, of coarse, chiM. I've made a 
mistake They are a pair of turtledoves, to be sure ; innocent, cooing, young 
thincTs But let's get out of their way, -not to spoil sport, you know. ( Aside. ) 
To tTiink that there should be anything so fresh an'l pure in all this grimy 
world and Arthur Cressingham has it ou his arm ! ( They cross stage, passing 
Miss Hitchcock and Mr. Buckland in centre. Miss H. and Mr. C. exchange a 

friijid bow.) . .<. n • -^i it, *+ 

Mr. Buckland.- Lucky dog,— Cressingham; always falls in with the pretty 
o-irls ■ wish I had half his luck. This one's a regular stunner, and brand 
new, too. Looks like clover, aud buttercups, and all that sort of thing. See 
how the men stare ! ♦, v^) 



10 

Miss Hitchcock— Sheep generally do stare at clover, I believe, Mr. Buck- 
land. Green things suit their digestion. 

Mr. B.— Ha, ha ! Capital ! Sheep ! I see,— because they follow a leader. 
And the leader (indicati/u/ Mr. C .) instead of wearing a bell on Ms neck, car 
ries one on his arm. Ha, ha! {Aside. { See her wince! That shot hit 
home, Biicky, my boy. 

^U\i\^\t \— [shading eyes ivith hand) — Q\\, who is that poor lady who is 
scowling so dreadfully ? How cross and unhappy she looks. 

Mk. C. — Whom do you mean, — where .' 

M 111. VNi>A — That lady in green, who frowns at me so. 

Mr. C. {/nrniiif/ away)— Oh, yes ; I see. She is a Miss Hitchcock. 

Mm.vNnA— J/«.s,s' llUchcock! You don't really mean it ? 

JNJR C— Why not.' 

MiR.\NUA— Oh, how extraordinary ! And that is really Miss Hitchcock. 
Yes, to be sure, — and just as they describe her. And now where is Mr. Cres- 
singhani, poor man .^ I'm sorry for him. He ought to be with her, — but he 
can't be the man she's ilancing with. 

i\(r. C. — Why not ] Do you know Mr. Cressingham ? 

Miranda — No ; but I've heard him described. Point him out to me, please. 

Mr. C. [lookiny around) — Uo you know — it's very odd — but I don't see him 
anywhere. 

Miranda {gravely)— lie ought to be with her. They are engaged to be 
married. 

Mr. C— x\nd must people who are engaged always go in couples, poor 
things ? 

Miranda— Poor ihinys ! V/hat, if they care for each other ? 

.\[r. C — In some cases ; yes, of course. 

Miranda- Well, I suppose that is true, in some cases ; and this is not one 
of them, for 1 have heard slie is very cross, and snubs him. 

Mii (^. [frowniiiy) — Snubs him. \ Oh. they say that, do they ? 

MiRA.NDA. — Yes ; and worse still. Do you know, he can't be really nice, 
though he is so handsome and clever, for they say he is marrying her for her 
money. 

.^Ir. C. {sarcastically) — How shocking ! 

Miranda — Yes, isn't it 1 Only fancy what their lives will be Avhen they are 
married. 

Mr. 0. — No ; don'' I fancy it. Perhaps they never will be. 

Miranda — Ob, yes they will. Why, the wedding day is fixed, and the 
dress made. {Lauyhs to herself.) 

Mr. C. — But marriages are sometimes broken off at the very altar. 

Miranda, {opening eyes) — Oh, how wicked ! 

Mr. C. — More wicked to break a promise than swear a lie ? 

Miranda— Break a promise, — swear a lie ? V>vii both, are impossible; no- 
body could do eilher. 

Mr. C. — Oh, couldn't they ] People never make mistakes, I suppose. 

Miranda, {thongh/fuUy) — Yes ; I suppose they do. Well, tten, if such a 
dreadful thing did happen, he ought to ask her to release him, 

Mr. C. {eagerly) — But suppose she would not ? 

Miranda, {confidently) -O'h, but she would. Do you think a lady 
would ever Avant to keep the letter of a promise when its spirit is broken ? She 
would be a horrid woman. 

Mr. <!. — But there are horrid women. Let us suppose for the argument's 
sake that she is one, and that she refuses. What should the unfortunate man 
do then ? 

Miranda — Why, of course he must marry her. 

Ms. <' — Do you really think so ? To swear false vows, swear to love and 
honor, wlien ho does neither ? 

MmxsuA, {distressed and eager) — No, no; he Avould have told her, and he 



11 

would try to do liis very bost. There wnuld lio im i'.ilsciicss in it. And lie 
would be helped, — ho would j'r^iy — (^'c/'a' siichlrnli/.) Oh, don't talk of such 
things hero ; it is irreverent. 

Mr. C. (aside) — Heavenly innocence ! (Music strUccs up. All hcijin lo 
lualtz.) 

Mi'R.A'S'DA, (irlst/ullij) — Please, mi(/ht I d;mce ? It looks so lieautifiil, and 
sissy taufiht mc how. 

Mr. C. — Certainly, of course ; pardon me for not suggesting it Itefure. 
(They waltz off to rear. Miss Hitchcock and Mr. Bnckland jrromenade lo cm I re 
of stage.) 

Mr. B. (lookini/ h-ound) — Hullo! Whafs come over our Knight of tbe Rue- 
ful Countenance ? Waltzing, by Jove, and smiling at the same time. Miss 
Hitchcock, this thing must be stopped. The combined exertion will kill him. 
Just let me seat you somewhere, and I'll rescue the misguided youth from 
that female whirling dervish and bid him hearken to the call of love and duty. 

Miss H. (hai/t/htih/)~^l beg, Mr. Auckland, you will do nothing of the kind. 
Leave me, by all means, but send no one else, I prefer to be alone. (Seats 
herself. Mr. B. bows and walks of.) 

Miss H. — And so he, too, the poor ensign, deserts me, lured by that bit of 
pink and white rusticity ! (Watches Mr. C and Mir.) How he smiles at her. 
I never spw him smile like that before. How handsome he is. Arthur, Ar- 
thur, how handsome you are ! (Hurriedly rising.) They are coming this way. 
Let me get out of their sight. If he were to look at me again as he looked at 
me just now. as if I were a venomed toad in his path, I think I should strike 
her where she stands ! (Passes hastily to right wing., and vnitches them iinseeii. 
Mr. C. and Mir. re-enter and promenade to center of stage. Music re commences. 
People change partners.) 

MiR. — They are going to dance again, and it's so delicious. Please, I don't 
understand, — what happens ? Do we change partners, or how do we manage 1 

Mr. C. (ff.s?'c?e)— Where is her chaperone ? Surely she came in with Mrs. 
Nesbitt. How can she be left so completely to herself? (Aloud) No, we 
don't change partners : we go on dancing together as long ns we like. 

Mir. — Then shall we begin again ? H is such a waste of time, when we 
might be dancing. It's almost wrong, don't you think so ? 

Mr. C— Decidedly ! (Just as they beghi to dance Mr. Buckland couics up.) 

Mr B. (aside to Mr. C.)— Down with monopolies, old fellow! Introduce 
me. [Mr. C yoes through pantomime of introduction.) 

Mr. B. — May 1 have the pleasure of the next dance ] 

Mir.— Thank you, but I can't ; I'm dancing with Mr. (looks inqnirinqhj 

at 3Ir. C..I ii'ho looks at his hoots.) 

Mr. B.— Yes ; but that waltz is over. May I not hope for the next ? 

MiR. (smiling) — But I am going on dancing with him. 

Mr. B. (gravel//) — Oh, indeed ! (.4 pause. Mr. B. hows and walks of. 
Joins Miss Hitchcock and exit, starimj-) 

Mir.— How strangely that gentleman looked. What did he mean I 

Mr. C. — Oh, nothing. (They waltz off again. Enter Jjiid// Maria and Mr. 
Hitchcock. 

Lady M. (to Lady Leslie)— S^^&W, Heaven be praised ! That's over and no 
bones broken. A¥e only upset t-\vo couples and a vase an<l a few chairs. 
(Sinks into a seat and fans herself vigoronsly.) 

Mr. H. — A most delightful dance. Lady Leslie. Your daughter waltzes 
like a sylph. I shall be pleased to have another daring the evening. 

Lady M.— The pleasure will be all on one side then. There, mumscy. don't 
faint with horror. Mr. Hitchcock knows I always speak my mind : and (with 
a saucy bow) I won't take any more galop in mine, thank you. sir ! ( 'fm-ns to 
Mr. B. and engages in an. animated panlomimic conversation) 

Mr. H. — Charming girl, your daughter. Lady Leslie ; so full of spirits ; a 
little inclined to kick in the traces, now and then : don't take kindly to bar- 



12 

ness. But I like a spirited filly, for my part ; there's credit in breaking 
them in. May I conduct you to supper ? (Leads Lady Leslie off, r. d. Peo- 
ple begin to file out through same door in couples. 3L-. G. and 3fir. come down 
center of stage.) 

Mir. — Do you know Miss Hitchcock ? 

Mr. C. (embarrassed) — Yes, — rather. 

Miranda — She keeps looking at me like an evil eye, and it makes me ner- 
vous. I wish she wouldn't. Or is it my dress she is looking at ? 

Mr. C. — Why ?/o?/, of course ; why should she look at your dress? It's 
charmingly pretty, white and shining, and all that, but nothing out of the 
way, is it ? But why does Miss Hitchcock interest you so much 1 Verily, it 
does her too much honor. 

Miranda — There's a special reason you know nothing about, and I can't 
possibly tell you. Besides. I'm very sorry for her. As for that, Mr. Cres- 
singham, I'd despise him with all my heart if I did not know he was going to 
pay the penalty of his meanness. 

Mr. C. — Meanness'^ 

Miranda — Yes ; why do you seem so surprised ? 

Mr. C. — Oh, merely because I had never happend to hear him accused of 
meanness before ; that's all. Shall we go in to supper ? 

Miranda — Supper, so soon ? Oh, no ; I think it is too warm for supper. 
But if you will bring me a glass of water here I shall be obliged. 

Mr. C. — Certainly. (Clock strikes twelve.) Buthark! the clock is striking 
midnight. I am afraid to leave you lest you should disappear like the Cinder- 
ella of the fairy tale. 

Miranda — Oh, I have no fairy godmother, I assure you ; and I'm so thirsty. 

Mr. C— If that is the case, I fly. (Exit I. d.) 

Miranda, (looking after him.) — Ah, why was he in such a hurry ? I wanted 
to thank him for making me so happy ; and now I shall never see him again ! 
Oh ! I must call him back for just a minute. (Starts toivards the door.) But 
no ! this is my only chance for escape. (B.uns to windoio ) The balcony is 
divided by a low railing from the balcony outside the first floor's window. 
His window is open ; how fortunate ! I can spring over the railing, and 
through his windoAV, and up to my room, and nobody the wiser. (Sighs,) Oh, 
how easy it is to escape from fairyland. Good-bye, my Prince ; my kind, 
stately, beautiful Prince ! I shall never, never see you again ! (Mounts into 
the balcony. The curtains fall around her. At this instant 3Ir. Oressingham re- 
appears with water in hand. Stands staring blankly around him as the curtain 
falls.) 



Act Second — Scene First- 

(Mrs. Oreen' s lodging-house. Miranda? s room, as before ; wedding dress spread 
out on sofa. Enter 3Iir and a, hastily . r- d.; crosses stage to back door, and 
calls off :) 

Miranda— Please. Mrs. Green, take Sissy's breakfast to her room ; she 
fainted this morning, and I've coaxed her to remain in bed to-day. 

Mrs. Green, (off) — Yes, my dear, I'll bring it directly, my lamb. (Re-enter 
Miranda ; stands looking at wedding dress ifi a dazed sort of a way.) 

Miranda — The wedding dress — the ball — the Prince ! Was I really ever 
so happy ? When I woke up this morning and found poor Sissy so ill I had for- 
gotten all about it : and now it all comes back to me. How beautiful it was ! 
{Examining dress.) But how my heart beat when I stepped inside the first 
floor's window and saw him standing there ; yes, actually standing there with 



IS 

a lighted candle ill his hand. But luckily his back was turned to nio. My 
gracious ! how ho jumped when I blew out the caiullc, and what a race we 
had up the stops ! I'd have given anything to have seen his face when I 
popped into the closet and 'hid among tlie brooms and dust pans. What fun it 
was to hear him scampering up and down, and peering into coi-ners and open- 
ing doors, and every two minutes saying " ]5y .love !'' 1 thought I should have 
died of suppressed laughter. But here I am undiscovered, and not even a 
spot on Miss Hitchcock's wedding dress to spoil the memory of that beautiful, 
beautiful time. Oh, dear ! how kind he was. (Knl.'^r Mrs. Grcfn., tray in 
hand^ c. d.) 

Mrs Geeen — My dear, T fetched a cup of tea up to Mis.s Sophy, and .she's 
swallered it, and a.morsel of toast to keep it company : and now siie"s gone 
off to sleep, and she'll be well agnin in a jiffy. She's only tired out. that's 
all. 

Miranda, (cheerfullt/) — Well, I must work double then, and try to rest her. 
I like working double ; it makes one feel strong and big. 

Mrs. Green, {setting table) — Bless your innocent heart ! I believe you. 
Now here's a bit of kidney and potatoe that's browned to a perfect pictur. 
Sit down and eat it like a lamb, do. (Miranda sits at table, and Mrs. Green 
waits on her. ) 

Mrs. Green, (confidentially) — My dear, that's a queer gent we've got on 
our first floor. (Miranda starts.) He's been and saw a ghost immediate, and 
nobody ^ver seed a ghost on these premises afore. 

ft'Ciranda — What was the ghost like ? 

Mrs Green — Like a pretty woman, he says ; dressed in white, of course — 
ghosts always is ; it would seem onnatural like if they wasn't. 

Miranda— What did it do ? 

Mrs. Green— Why, it appeared just as the clocks were sti'iking midnight, 
of course., and it blew out the candle, which seems to rae an uncommon frisky 
thing for a spook to do, and whisked through t..e door and up the stairs, and 
disappeared — swallered into the ground right afore the first-floor's eyes, 
which was a follerin' behind, two steps at a time. 

Miranda— Swallowed into the ground ? Did the first-floor say that? 

Mrs. Green — Well, if not swallered, leastways disappeared. 

Miranda — Did he really believe it was a ghost ? 

Mrs. Green — Not at first, Miss. He asked me about every Avomaii thei'e 
was in the house, and 1 told him there was me and the cook and Nancy ; and 
he sniggered, the fir.st-floor did, and he SMid it was none of we ; so I s:iys there 
was Mrs. .Jones and the two Miss .Joneses, and he questions me about them 
sharp ; and I tells him Mrs. Jones was a fine woman of forty-five, and the 
Miss JOne.«es are her husband's sisters, and no younger than she, and just 
like other ladies who don't get married when they are young. So he sniggered 
again, the first-floor did, (he's a oner for sniggerin !) and he says it wasn't 
them at all. vind I says, of course it wasn't, nor nobody else. Then 1 tells 
him about you and Miss Sophy, and that you'd been asleep for hours and 
hours ; and then he says, very well, it must have been a ghost, for it was 
nobody at all, and he'd seen it, hevident. AVhich I told him he'd been asleep 
on his sofy, and most likely had had a drop too much, and he ovightn't to go 
for to take away the character of a widder's lodgings with his ghosts and sicli 
and the next one he saAv I'd give him notice to quit on the spot. So I walked 
right awaj' for fear my dander'd riz, and I'd do it then, and it would be ten 
shillings out of my pocket come Saturday. Ghosts indeed ! 

Miranda — Oh, dear Mrs- Green, I wouldn't send him off on that account. I 
wouldn't indeed. Probably nothing more will happen, and it would be so hard 
on him, yon know. 

Mrs. Green — What business has he to go for to see ghosts, Miss 1 (Knock 
heard at c. d.) Here's sornebody at the door. I'll just whisk myself and 
my dishes out of j'our way, my dear. (Exit with tray, r. d.) 

(Miranda opens c d. Mr. Gaunt enters.) 



14 

Mr. Gaunt — You are the young latly belonging to this room, T presume ? 

Miranda, (breathlessly — Yes, sir : wont you walk in ? 

Mr. Gaunt — Then you are the very person I want to see. 

Miranda — Are you the first-iioor, sir ? 

Mr. Gaunt — Yes ; I've seen you before. Miss. 

Miranda — Oh, I couldn't help it. I — I — beg your pardon ; but I really 
couldn't help it, sir. 

Mr. Gaunt, (surprised) — Of course not. I saw you in church last Sunday 
week, and I followed you and you came in here ; so I immediately took lodg- 
ings here too. 

Miranda, (with dignity) — You were extremely foolish then, and you have no 
right to tell me so, or to speak to me at all. I must beg you- to excuse me. sir. 
(About to leave room.) 

Mr. Gaunt — Stop a minute. I am an artist. I am painting a picture. I 
wanted a face — a particular sort of a face. I had been looking for it for 
weeks, and at last 1 found it in church. It's you. 

Miranda — Oh, I beg your pardon, sir ; is that all ? I thought you meant a 
compliment, and that would have been so impertinent, you know. 

Mr. Gaunt — Bother compliments ! Do I look the sort of party who is likely 
to chase round after pretty faces to pay them compliments ? I'm an artist, 
and I live for my work. I'm thinking about my picture, not you. 

Miranda — Oh, yes, I don't mind that at all. 

Mr. Gaunt — And will you sit to me ? 

Miranda — I can't, really, sir ; my sister's sick, and I havn't time; be.sides, 
I don't know you. 

Mr. Gaunt — Hullo ! that's it, is it ] If it's the want of an introduction 
we'll soon fix that. (Calls off.) Mrs. Green ! Mrs. Green ! 

Mrs. Green, (in the distance) — Coming, sir, coming. 

Mr. Gaunt, (keeps door open looking out) — " She comes, she comes, I have 
called her long ;" she comes vip the staircase, two hundred pounds strong. 
(Enter Mrs. Green, c. d.) Mrs. Green, will you do me the kindness to intro- 
duce me to this young lady ^ 

Mrs. Gaunt — Well, really, sir, I don't know : why should I ? You're pretty 
old and wear spectacles ; but then — 

Mr. Gaunt, (interrupting) — I'm painting a picture that'll make me immortal, 
and I want her fixce to put in it. Introduce me like a good soul. 

Mrs. Green — Oh, you're one of those painting chaps, are you ? That ac- 
counts for your seeing spooks. Them sort of people always have queer goings 
on in their upper stories. And you want to paint Miss Mii-andy,do you ? My 
dear, I don't see why not; 'taint as if he was a gentleman ; and you'd make 
a lovely pictur . Miss Miranda Maxwell, this is Mr. Gaunt, the fii^st-floor, 
and I'd the best of references with him. 

Mr. Gaunt — Well, I'm blessed ! Miranda too ! Why, it's as Miranda I want 
to paint you. Its a coincidence to knock a man into a cocked hat ! 

Miranda — Miranda — Shnkespeare's Miranda? Oh, I'm not half pretty 
enough for her. 

Mr. Gaunt— I'll be hanged if you're not pretty enough for anything ! Beg 
pardon ; I'm respectful — perfectly respectful ; only, you see, I'm trembling 
with impatience to begin. There, (poses her,) stand just so ; a little more 
wonder in your eyes, please ; a trifle more smile, as if you saw a new dress. 
or a beau, or whatever else girls like ; so. Now I'll just take a little sketch! 
(Opens portfolio hurriedly.) 

Miranda — But indeed I can't stay now, sir ; I'm engaged at M'me la Gai's. 
You know we are dressmakers, and I'm late already. " Will to-morrow do ? 

Mr. Gaunt — A whole twenty-four hours! Wel'i, I suppose '' needs must 
when the devil drives." Beg pardon ; slip of the tongue ; I'm perfectly 
respectful. To-morrow be it. You'll come, Mrs. Green, to play propriety— 
■that's a good soitI ; and perhaps I'll put you in as Sycorax — who knows ? In 



15 

the meantime I'll keep my eyes open for an Ariel. (Sood morning. (.Shakes 
hands with Miranda. Snddenlj) ThaCti the look I want — smiling, bright- 
eyed, you know ! Here, take a look at yourself in the glass, and try to save 
it up till to-morrow. (Mr. Gaunt holds up hand-glass. Miranda draws back 
embarrassed, but laughing. Tableau. (Jurlain fa/Ls.) 



Act Seconij — Suenk Two. 

(3Imc. la Gai' s uliow-rooin. Mirror a! one side, sliairl.';, sacqae-s, bonnets, etc.. 
Iianfiing about on pegs and dammies ; a pile of bonnet boxes near mirror. Miss 
Hitchcock, Ladji Leslie and Mine, la Gai exartiining shawl in rear with backs 
turned to audience. Ladg Maria, and 3Ir. Hitchcock in front.) 

Lady Maria, (trying on long, black silk polonaise, petulantly)—! think 
wmcbodi/ might help me button the thing up ! 

Mr. Hitchcock — Shall 1 call the person in attendance ! 

Lady M. — Don't you see she's busy ? 

Mr. Hitcocock, (embarrassed) — Well — ! 

Lady M. (coaxingly) — Have not you some lingers and thumbs .' You said 
you'd do anything in the world for mo, and here you leave me to button up this 
long thing all myself! 

Mr. Hitchcock, (glancing uneasily at his daughter) Certainly, by all means. 
Your slave lives but to serve you ! (Kneels and commences to button; aside.) 
By jove, if Hannah should look 'round now ! 

Lady M. (drawling) — 'L'hanks, they are all crooked, but never mind ! Men 
never are fit for anything useful ! 

Mr. Hitchcock, [still on knees and seizing her hand] — Only to adore the 
pretty girls ! 

Lady M. [mischievously, not releasing her hand] — Hannah, how do you like 
this polonaise ? [Mr. Hitchcock jumps to his feet] 

Lady M. [innocently] — Ah, f lie did'nt hear ! l>ets look at some bonnets, 
now. [Opens boxes] — Here's a beauty ! Hold that, please ! [Gives him bon- 
nets till his hands are full.] This is a love ! [Tries on one before glass.] 

Mr. Hitchcock — Lovely, charming. You remind me of — a — uni — of Venus 
rising from the sea. 

Lady M — Ah, excuse me — not in this cold climate ! [Mr. Hitchcock edges 
round, to get a better view.] Heavens, nuin, don't stir ! You'll drop one 
and Mine Gai will be in despair. [Takes another out of bo.\.] Ali. here is a 
gem ! [Snatches bonnet off head, and Mr. PL's hands being full, claps it on 
his.] Now ^/««s is becoming. ^L•^mma ! Hannah! [Mr. H. makes imploring 
signals to have the hat removed, which Lady M. ignores] Hannah, just look 
here for a moment. [They turn round. Tableau.] 

Miss Hitchcock, [severely] — Father ! 

Mme. La Gai. — Ah, ciel ! [Lady Leslie holds up her hands in silent 
amazement.] 

Mr. Hitchcock — Somebody take the confounded things, or I'll pitch them 
out of the window. 

Mme. La Gai, [rushing down centre] — Ah, nion Dicu ! 1 /.all relieve you. 
Monsieur. [Takes bonnets.] 

Lady M. [demurely] — Your father is such an amiable old gentleman, Han- 
nah ; he loves to make himself useful. 

Miss H. [dryly J — So 1 observe. [To father, severely.] Father, you have 
an engagement at the club, this morning, I believe ? 

Mr. H. [hurriedly] — Yes, my dear, of cours" ; glad ycu reminded me. 
Good morning, ladies. 



16 

Lady M. — Must you really go, Mr. Hitchcock ? There are lots more things 
to try on. 

Mr. II. [at r. d.] — Must, upon my word ; most important engagement ; good 
morning. [Exit Mr. H., r. d.] 

Miss H. [coldly] — Perhaps now, Maria, you will find yourself at leisure to 
help me in my selections. [Lady M. follows her across the stage. Mme. La 
Gai displays lace saccjue. Enter Miranda, u. r. e. Seats herself behind 
counter and removes bonnet and shawl. 

Mme. La Gai — Mais oui, mesdames, c'est tres conime il faut ! Vat ze call 
hecondng^ — vere, vere becoming,— et so aliccp ! Mademoiselle, permittez moi. 
[Otfers to put it on Miss H's shoulders.] 

Miss. II. [drawing back] — Put in on that young person's shoulders, madanie, 
[indicating Miranda.] She has a tolerable figure, and we might judge better 
of the effect. 

Mme. La Gai, [embarrassed] — Zat young lady, mademoiselle I She, she is 
not belonging to my establishment. Pent etre, M'lle, / zall 'ave ze honore 
[Puts it on her own shoulders.] 

Miss H. [lauglrng disagreeably] — It's not exactly your style, my good 
friend. Perhaps the young person will consent to oblige us, if you ask her. 

Mme. La Gai, [aside to Miranda] — C'est M'lle Hitchcock, une grandc dame, 
so riche, s" vat you call fasteedious. Vill you be so vere good, M'lle Miraude.? 
[Miranda smilingly assents, comes out from behind the counter, puts on 
sacque, and walks up and down.] 

Miss H., [critically] — Yes, it's not so bad ; it might do ; there's something 
rather novel and stylish about it, isn't there Maria .' [Putting up eye-glass.] 
Have I seen that young person here before, Madame ? 

Mme. la Gai — Non, M'lle, uevere ; I tink nevere. 

Miss H. — Her face seems strangely familiar to me. A likeness I suppose. 
[Aside.] How embarrassed she is. There must be something behind all that 
blushing and nervousness. 

Lady M. — Oh, mamsey ! she is the very image of that pretty girl at Lady 
Gregory's ball, that Mr. ~ 

Lady L., [warningly] — My dear ! 

Miss H., [letting eye-glass fall] — Yes, tiuit must be the likeness I saw. But 
why did you stop Maria, Lady Leslie ? Do you think /mind ? 

Lady M., [aside to Lady Leslie] — Certainly it is the strangest likeness I 
ever saw. [Aloud.] You don't mind being considered like a great beauty 
who made a sensation at Lady Greaory's ball, do you '] 

Miranda, [smiling] — But Pm not a beauty, am I I 

Lady M , [heartily] — Upon my word I think you are. 1 know some people 
[glancing at Miss Hitchcock] who would give half their fortune for such a pink 
and white skin. 

Miss H. [irritably] — Don't be foolish, Maria. Don't be putting ideas into 
the young person's head. 

Lady M. — But what's the use of heads unless we have ideas in them I And 
what's the use of ideas unless they make us jolly ? And there's nothing 
going so awfully jolly as knowing we are pretty and the men are mad after 
us ! 

Miss Hitchcock, [still watching Miranda, who seems uneasy] — What was 
that girl's name, at Lady Gregory's ball l I heard several people asking, 
but nobody knew. 

Lady M. [flippantly]— Then why didn't you ask "nobody" if nobody knew I 
I asked nobody, and so I can tell you. She was a Miss Style, a great York- 
shire heiress, who came with Mrs. Nesbitt. Isn't it hard lines on nous aufres 
that such a beauty should be rich, too. I'll bet a pony she sings. [Abruptly 
to Miranda] Do you sing? 

Miranda — Oh, yes ; I sing. 

Lady M.— Oh, mumsey, oh, Hannah ; we've nothing to do 'till the carriage 



17 



comes ; do let's make her sing. You'll sing for u?, wont you, and be amia- 
ble ? you couQterpart of Miss Style, you ! 

Miranda — Only I am not an heiress. 

Lady M. — That's a pity. But it's easily I'cmcdied. You must catch an 
old fellow with lots of [pretends to slap pockets.] 

Lady L. [reprovingly]— My dear ! 

Lady M.— But mayn't she sing, mumsey ? You know we want a soprano 
for our Charade. Wouldn't she just do, face and figure and all ? You sing 
soprano 1 

Miranda — Oh, yes. 

Lady M.— Then please, please sing. Pretend its a concert, and they are 
the audience, and I'm the manager. See, I'll lead you on. [Leads her 
down centre of stage a la concert.] 

Miranda— Am I really to sing ? What a funny idea. [Ladies group them- 
selves on right hand ; Miss Hitchcock in rear ; Mme. La Gai stands on the 
left. Miranda sings.] * 

Lady M.— Oh, that was beautiful, heavenly ! Mumsey, we must have her 
for our charade. [Leads Lady L. aside, and talks for a minute in earnest 
pantomime.] 

Miranda, [aside, looking at Miss H.]— Tears on her cheeks ! Tears at vu/ 
song ! Poor thing ! How unhappy she looks. How I wish I could comfort 

Lady M. [aloud]— You will come to us, won't you? Mamma says she will 
be very happy to have you. [Lady L. bows affirmatively.] Our soprano has 
gone away, and we shan't know what to do without you. Promise to come ! 

Miranda— It would be great fun. I don't think Sophy would object, les, 

I'll prom'se. „ ,. . , ., 

Lady M.— That's tip top ! Here's my number ; we are all living together. 
Come to-morrow, please, and stay to lunch, and we can arrange everything. 
[Gives card.] 

Miss H. [impatiently]— Are we to stay here all day l ■ 

Lady M.— I thought we were waiting for 1.11 .u- i 

Miss H. [haughtily] - /am not waiting for anyone, and I never shall think 
of waiting for Jum. I made an appointment, and kept it, as I always do. 
But if other people are late, so much the worse for them. I have finished my 
business ; shall we go ? , . . , , , 

M'me La Gai, [hastily]— But M'lle, zall I not 'ave ze plaisir to show you la 
iolie robe in ze next room 1 

Miss H.— Ah, yes ; I had forgotten. Will you come with me, ladies ? 
[They pass out, led by M'me La Gai, bowing pleasantly to Miranda. Miss H. 
lingers a moment.] . . ^ ■, ,, . x it 

Miss H.— Will you let me know when you visit Lady Maria to-morrow i i 
should like to have you come to my room. , 

Miranda— To your room ? Thank you ; that would be very nice. [ i hen, 
seeing Miss H. stare,] Oh, I beg your pardon. How stupid of me ! Of course 
I'll come, if you wish it. j ♦!,„* 

Miss H.— Did you ever see the Miss Style they say you are like, and that 
you certainly are like ? 

Miranda, [confused]— I, I don't know who you mean. _ 

Miss H. [severely]- Masquerading is a very foolish thing._ 

Miranda, [aside]— Oh, gracious ! she knows. [Aloud, faintly,] What? 

Miss H.— Never mind. "Perhaps you understand me ; and if you don t, 
there's no harm done. Good morning, [Exit 1. d.] _ 

Miranda, [alone, wringing her hands] — She must know ! There is notliing 
else she can mean. Yet who would have thought she could recognize a dress 

* Miranda's son'xs are from " Miss Hitchcock's Wedding Dress," and have been set 
to music by Mr. Walton S. Perkins, Milwaukee, Wis. 
(3) 



18 

she never saw since it left the shelves ? I shall nevei' have courage 
to go to her, never. But if I refuse, she will be certain. Oh, why 
did I ever indu'ge in that dreadful, delicious, harum-scarum esc^^.pade ? I 
shall be wretched all the rest of my life. And yet, — if I could only see him 
again, I think I should not care if the whole world found me out ! [Steps 
heard outside.] Here's somebody coming. Perhaps it's Miss Hitchcock 
again. I'll hide in the trying-on room. [Exit hurriedly r. u. e., as Mr. Cres- 
singham enters r. d.] 

Mr. C. [moodily] — No one here ; so much the better. [Tosses over shawls, 
etc., with cane.] These are some of the gauds, I suppose, in which my lovely 
bride is to lead me to execution. Pah ! How I hate that sour, cynical face 
and biting tongue. No wonder the little darling said she had an evil eye. 
She has, she has ; and it's blighting the very heart in my bosom. By Jove ! 
I'll not submit to it. I'll demand a release I'll — [sinking into a chair.] 
But no. Even she tells me what my duty is. Things have gone too ftir. I am 
not i\xQ first fool, I suppose, who has bartered his birthright for a mess of pot- 
tage, — nor the ^a^f, either. [Starting up and walking to and fro.] But oh, 
beautiful vision of sweetness and innocence ! do not cross my path again. 
Your very memory unmans me ; in your presence I should be a grovelling 
slave. [Door of trying-on room opens, and Miranda appears. Mr. C. stares 

at her blankly.] Ah ! [Springing forward and seizing both hands.] 

Is it you 1 Can it be possible ? You, of all the peop'e in the world ! [Sol- 
emnly.] Bear me witness ; I did not seek you ; I had no thought of finding 
you here ; I came to do my duty. It is Fate that has brought us together 
again, — remember, it is Fate ! After this, let what will — happen. 

Miranda, [wondering] — Surely, it is Fate, — or, rather, let us call it Provi- 
dence. But are you not glad to see me 7 Shall I go away ? 

Mr. C. — Not for worlds ! Glad ? My child, I don't think I ever knew what 
it was to be glad before. 

Miranda, [softly]— That is what I said myself, last night. That was a 
beautiful ball ; was it not ? 

Mr. C. — The most beautiful ball I ever attended. 

Miranda— I said iAffli! too. [Laughs to herself.] AVhat did you think when 
you came back and found me gone ? 

Mr. C. — What did I think? Why, that you were a cruel little Cinderella, 
to run away without even leaving me the slipper. 

Miranda — But you forget ; Ihad boots on. 

Mr. C. — Boots? Ah, yes ; boots. And is it not always so? Isn't it just 
the difference between boots and slippers that makes or mars a man's life ? 

Miranda — But hoAv ? 

Mr. C. — Why, thus. I'll take an example. I could not find you because 
you did not leave me a slipper ; you did not leave me a slipper because, by a 
mere chance, you wore boots : and by these chances and trifles lives are lost. 

Miranda. — And yet, after al], Providence has brought us together agiiin ! 
[pause; gaily] I don't believe in chances ! When you spoke of boots or slip- 
pers making or-marring a life, I thought it was because boots meant tvork, and 
slippers, idleness. 

Mr. C. [eagerly]— Thank you ; you have given me the key-note. There is 
hope in that. Yes, I will work ; I will use every means to bring about my 
end. 

Miranda, [archly]— But you must wear thicker boots than those, if the 
work is to be at all difficult. 

Mr. C. — I'll wear seven league boots, if necessary. 

Miranda — Ah, there it is ! You can't do your work your;elf, so yc u give in 
at once and call upon the giants to help you. 

Mr. C. — But that is because I want to pursue a fairy. [Horn blows outside 
for dinner.] 

Miranda — Oh, dear, there are the horns blowing for dinner, and I have so 



19 

far to go ! Oli, why do thebeautiful times slip away so fast, and only the dull, 
stupid ones linger ? . 

Mr C— Must you go ? But at least let me see you to your carriage .' 

Miranda— No, thank you ; I shall walk ; and besides I must see Mme. la 
Gai before I leave. [Goes towards 1. d.] . „ t^ t v * 

Mr C, [following her]— And when shall I see you again ? If 1 dine at 
Mrs Nesbitfs n Thursday, is there any chance of my meeting the sister 
Sophy you told me so much about last evening— and— and— Cinderella ? 

Miranda — I don't think there is the slightest. 

Mr. C— But when shall we meet ? AVe are friends are we not ? 

Miranda— Oh, surely— [embarrassed] at least I am friends with you. 

Mr. C— Well, friends love to meet each other ; so tell me svhen I may see 

you again. , ^ ,. , , , , 

Miranda— Well, I don't know ; perhaps at Lady Leslie's charade party. 
There, I can't wait another minute. Good-bye. [Exit hurriedly.] 

[Mr. C. stands looking after her.] So gentle, so spirited ; how she allures, 
vet how her utter innocence repels one. Her eyes seem to read my soul with 
their wise shy glances ; but how childlike they are. This time yesterday I 
did not know her, and already I feel hope and courage revive within me. 
There is something worth living for after all. It is not a myth, this thing 
the poets call love. I feel it ; I know it. [Picks up hat and cane.] And 
noiv io remove forever the one obstacle to perfect happiness. [Starts towards 
r. d. iust as Miss Hitchcock enters it.] 

Mr C, [bowing profoundly]— A happy chance, madame ; I was on the 
point of starting; to your house. 

Miss Hitchcock, [coldly]-To apologize for being tardy, as usual, I presume 
Quite unnecessary, I assure you. Your movements are equally indifferent 

°Mr^'c.— That being the case then, I shall have less difficulty in explaining 

°^Miss H., [glancing around sees Miranda's shawl on chair and picks it up] 
-You have seen that girl again, Arthur. It is Miss Style, after all ; I 
guessed as much. [Sneeringly.] Is it a rendezvous en mas^wf, and have i 
scared away your charmer ? I have merely returned for my parasol ; here 
it is. [Picks up parasol,] ^. .^ . x j 

Mr C.— The sneer is characteristic, madame. No ; it is not a rendezvous, 
an I am the only person en masque. I throw it off now, once and for all. 
Madame, I desire to be released from my engagement. 

Miss H., [putting up eye-glass, and speaking in a most exasperating tone]-- 
Ah indeed! We have fallen in love overnight with a pmk and white doll 
from the country, and straightway we throw honor and obligation to the 
winds ! 

Mr. C Ffiercely] — Madame — „, 

Miss H.. [changiig her manner]-Listen to me, Arthur There is no pre- 
tence of love between us. You are fulfilling the debt of honor your father 
contracted to mine, twenty years ago, and bequeathed to you on his death 
bed And I-I, [turning away and speaking aside] am playing traitor to ev- 
ery 'tradition of her sex, which forbids a woman giving her heart unasked- 
it's a barcrain— a contract— but [with intense emphasis] you shall not break 
it t My father has your father's written promise ; I have yours. _ \ ou shall 
not disgrace me before these people whom I have disliked and despised all my 

life. ,. , , 

IVir C.— Madame, this is extraordinary language ! 

Miss H.-[passionately]-Arthur ! Arthur ! you never loved me I know ; 
but is only last night you learned to hate me. Good God ! am I so hideous 
then, that the allurements of a girl who can never be yours have made you 
recreant to your plighted word 1 

Mr. C, [alarmed]— I— I— do not understand— 



20 

Miss H., [triumphantly] — I thought as much. You didn't know your char 
mer was bespoken, then ? Listen — [Reads from newspaper.] " The engage- 
ment of Miss Style, the beautiful Yorkshire heiress, daughter of John Style. 
of Bretten Hall, East Riding, to the Honorable George Dulancy, is announced. 
The marriage will take place early in October." [Mr. C. takes tLe paper, 
stares vacantly at it; then by a great effort recovers himself. Miss H. watches 
him closely.] 

Miss Hitciicock, [gently] — I am going now, Arthur. Will you give me your 
arm to the carriage ? [He offers it mech?.nically. She pauses a moment.] 
Do you still wish me to release you, Arthur ? 

Mr. C, [doggedly] — You father has my father's written promise ; you have 
mine ; I am ready to fulfill the contract, madame. [She takes hiri arm and 
they pass out as the curtain falls.] 



Act Third — Scene First. 

{Miss' Hitchcock'' s drawing-room, handsomely furnished. Mr. Cressingham dis- 
covered leaning against the mantle.^ and sivitching his boot with his riding ivhip, 
in a moody, listless manner. Enter page., r.u. e.] 

Page — Please, sir, here's a young leddy asking for the leddies, and they 
are out. She said she'd like to wait. Shall I show her up 1 

Mr. C. — I suppose so ; somebody calling by appointment, doubtless. I'll go 
into the library. [Exit page.] 

[Mr. C. gathers whip, hat, gloves, etc. Re-enter page, followed by Miranda.] 

Page — The leddies will be back directly, ma'am. Take a chair. 

Miranda— Thanks. Tell Lady Maria Leslie its about the charade party. 
She will understand. I was to have called last week, but could not leave my 
sick sister ; so of course she has given up expecting me. Tell her that, please. 

Page — Yes'm. [Exit. Mr. C, who has started and turned round at hear- 
ing her voice, comes hastily down centre.] 

Mr. C. — Fo?< here, in iAes house ? Can it be possible? I thought I had 
lost you. 

Miranda, [shyly] — But why ? Did you not think we should ever meet again 1 

Mr. C. — I might have known we should : still I hardly thought fate would 
meek me so cruelly a second time. 

Miranda — Mock you ? [Much surprised.] 

Mr. C— Why were you not more frank with me. Miss Style ? Why— [Mi- 
randa begins to laugh; he stops, offended.] Oh, I see you are laughing at 
my expense. You might have known I should find out the truth. A dozen 
people at least have told me. 

Miranda— Gracious ! How did they know ? Did Miss Hitchcock know, af- 
ter all, and tell them ? 

Mr. C— Tell them ? Why it was in the Morning Post ! 

Miranda, [faintly, sinking into a chair]— The Morning Post ? Then I am 
disgraced for life. [Covers face with hands.] Oh, how cruel of her ! 

Mr. C, [puzzled] — There is some misunderstanding here. I refer to your 
engagement, which was published in the Morning Post a week ago. 

Miranda, [springing up]— My engagement ? Good heavens ! what an ex- 
traordinary thing. It must mean Sophy ; she's been engaged to George for 
ever so long ; but /never was engaged in my whole life— never, never ! 

Mr. C, [catching her hand]— Do you mean to say that you are free— abso- 
lutely free ? 

Miranda — I never even had a boy beau! Don't you believe me? You must 
believe me ! 



21 

Mr. C, [earnestly loooking into her eyes] — Believe you, my cliild ? Can 
there be anything but truth in those wells of light ? Of course I believe you 
— gladly, eagerly ; only matters are someAvhat complicated now ; I have been 
made the victim of a mistake or a fraud — [aside] a fraud I verily believe — 
curse her jealousy ! I have something to say to you — ^to ask you. Can you 
guess what it is? My — [stops suddenly.] I must see Miss Hitchcock first, 
and then — 

Miranda, [surprised] — See Miss Hitchcock — [Sudden loud noises are he.ird 
outside, followed by screams and cries. Page rushes in r. d.] 

Page — Oh, please, sir; a dreadful accident, sir ! The carriage "ave run 
away, and my mistress is smashed all to little bits ! 

Maid, [rushes in r. d.] — My mistress, sir ! Miss Hitchcock, sir ! Murder ! 
fire ! thieves ! [R. D. opens and two men enter, carrying Miss H., insensible, 
bonnet falling off, dress torn, etc.] 

Miranda, (runs forward) — Oh, poor lady ! poor lady ! Lay her down here, 
please. [Makes room on sofa ; attends to her.] 

Mr. C, [authoritively to page]— Here, you, boy, don't stand staring there. 
Run for Dr. Simpkin, No. 4 Brook street. [Exit page, r. d. To maid] — You 
take off your mistress' bonnet, and make her more comfortable. 

Maid, [retreating] — Lud, sir, I wouldn" t tiouch her for the life of me ! 

Miranda — Perhaps I might be of use. The servant seems frightened. 

Mr. C. — If your nerves can bear the strain. Lady Leslie is at Chelten- 
ham, and her daughter out. There are none but servants at home. 

[Miranda busies herself in arranging Miss H. more comfortably : applies 
salts, etc, Mr. C. stands looking down ] 

Mr C. — And this is the end of it all ! 

Miranda, [startled] — You don't mean she's dead ? 

Mr. C. — No, no, I hope not ; but I fear she is much injured. 

Miranda — Oh, why don't the doctor come ? Does she belong to nobo ly ? 

Mr. C. — She has a father, you know. 

Miranda — Ah, poor man ! what will he do ? 

Mr. C, [shrugging his shoulders] — Bear it with astonishing fortitude. 
These ties are not always what you think, and they are neither of ihem, I 
fancy, capable of strong affections. 

Miranda — I don't know about that. She looks unhappy ; but she has a ten- 
der heart, for she cried at my singing. 

[Mr. C. looks shocked. Enter page, r. d., followed by Mr. Gaunt.] 
'Page — Doctor Simpkin was out, sir : but I met this gentleman at the door, 
and he says he understands doctoring, too. [Exit page.] 

Miranda— Mr. Gaunt ! 

Mr. Gaunt — To be sure ; why not? The women-folks were bothering how 
to get you home, so I reported myself ready for detail duty, and they sent me 
here as escort. In the hall I found a lot of folks making a deuce of a row. 
What's up? 

Miranda— Oh, I'm so glad you came ! There's been a dreadful accident ; 
the poor lady is hurt, and I am going to. stay with her till her friends arrive. 
Please tell Sophie not to expect me till she sees me. 

Mr. Gaunt — Hullo ! turned sick nurse, eh ? That's a new trade. Much 
harm done ? Bones smashed, eh ? 

Mr. C. — The injury seems chiefly to the head. 

[Mr. G. examines patient.] 

Miranda, [aside to Mr. C] — It is an artist who's been painting me and curing 
Sophy, and being very kind to us generally. 

Mr. Gaunt, [who has been examining Miss Hitchcock closely]— Her color 
is improving ; she'll pull through. 

Miranda, [to Mr. C] — Do you hear that ? '' She'll pull through !'" andhe' 
knows. He walked the hospitals, and dissected people, and did everything 
that makes a man medical, before he took to painting, Poor lady ! I'm so 
glad. 



2^ 

Mr. Gaunt, [to maid]— All you've got to do, is to sit by her ; and wet her 
head with vinegar and water, in case she wanders, as she is very like to do, 
and on no account let her stir till the doctor comes. 

Maid, [in a flurry]— Oh, lord sir — you need'nt look at me sir ! I would'nt 
stay alone with that— not for a fortune ! And nobody need expect it of me — 
neither, It was'nt put down in none of my characters — nor so much as evened 
to me — never, never ! And the Doctor, he told me I was'nt ever to be fright- 
ened on account of my 'eart, which it do beat now, most dreadful. 

Mr. Cressingham, isternly]--Leave the room, woman? [Exit maid-1. d. 
All stare blankly at each other. 

Mr. Cressingham— What's to be done now ? 

Mr. Gaunt-^She must'nt be left alone a minute— not a minute. Her life 
depends on nursing. 

Miranda, [firmly] — Very well — I'll stay then ! 

Mr. Gaunt— Good, girl ! [Attends to Miss Hitchcock.] 

Mr, C. [to Miranda] — I cannot bear to leave you in this way. Do you think 
you are surely strong enough ? 

Miranda — Yes. The poor thing must not be left alone. Alas how lonely 
some people are ! 

Mr. Cressingham — Not when visited by an angel ! [Miss Hitchcock moves 
a little and groans . ] 

Miranda — Poor lady. She suffers ! 

Mr. C — I can hardly pity her — so guarded ! I would almost change places 
with her if I thought I should open my eyes and find you there. Meantime I 
must go. We shall both be employed in the same work, for I must follow the 
f&ther and break the news to him. You will think of me, won't you — while 
you are watching the daughter, and I am hurrying after the father 1 I like to 
believe that you will think of me ! [Looks at her tenderly.] 

Miranda, [softly] — Yes, I shall think of you ! [Seats herself by the lounge. 
Exit Mr. Cressingham, e. d.] 

Mr. Gaunt — Now I'll trot off after a doctor and nurse. She shows symptoms 
of fever and you mus'nt be left alone. Hullo — who's this young thunder 
gust 1 [Door opens violently, and lady Maria runs in, in walldng dress, pale 
and breathless ] 

Lady M — I've only just heard — I'm so shocked ! Is she killed? Is she 
hurt ? What is it ? 

Miranda — Not killed, but very much injured. 

Lady M— What an awful shame ! 

Mr. Gaunt, [who has been watching her attentively] — Hullo, Ariel ! Have 
the goodness to stand a little more in the light — so — [poses her.] Throw your 
chin up, please ! [To Miranda] Congratulate me — my dear, I've found Ariel ! 

Lady Maria, [scared] — What is it, what does he do that for ! 

Miranda — Don't be alarmed — its his way. Laoy Maria Leslie — Mr. Gaunt ! 

Lady M, [looking at Miranda] Good gracious, is it really you ? My soprano ? 
How awfully jolly, [glancing at lounge] How awfully dreadful — I mean. 

Mr. Gaunt — Well, I'm no use here — so I'm off. When I come for you, you've 
got to go, d'ye hear ? [To Miranda.] 

Lady M. — Does it bite ? 

Miss Hitchcock [from lounge, in delirium] Too late, too late. 

Lady M . — Oh gracious ! Oh, how awfully horrid ! What shall I do ? 

Mr. Gaunt, [gruffly] Be of use, like her. [indicating Miranda.] 

Lady M. — Oh, I can't. I never was of use in my life ! 

Miss Hitchcock. — Too late, too late. 

Lady M, [shivering] Oh don't, don't, Hannah,— its dreadful ! 

Mr. Gaunt, [severely] — Have you got a thingamy here ! 

Lady M.— A what ? 

Mr. Gaunt — A thingamy— are you deaf ? A chariot, a coach ond four — 
whatever young women like you go round in. 



23 

Lady M. — I'm driving, certainly. 

Mr. G. — Well, may I take it a minute to bring a nurse and doctor ? 

Lady M. — Oh, no, no, I dare"nt stay here. I should die of fright — I know 
I should ! 

Mr. Gaunt — Then come with me. You don't look half bad, and you would'nt 
like your fiddle-faddles to stand in the way of saving a life, would you ? 

Lady M. — Yes — I will. You don't look half bad, either ! [Exeunt hastily, 
r.d] 

Miranda, [looking down at Miss Hitchcock] — Poor thing ! How still she 
lies — hardly a breath ; and all the pain has gone from her face, not even the 
hardness left. Why, she is almost heaulifitl — and young- — as young as I am ? 
I never thought of her being young before ! Poor young thing ! It must be 
true her lover does not love her — he would have been here the very first ! 
Hush — she is opening her eyes ! 

Miss Hitchcock [sits ixp, looking round wildly] — Arthur, where is Arthur ? 
I want Arthur ! 

Miranda — Shall I send for him ! I daresay he would come, where does he 
live 1 

Miss Hitchcock [sinking back wearily] — Better not, better not. I might 
have won it once — it is too late now, too late. Hearts must be won — they 
can't be conquered ! Too late, too late ! [Starts up again.] Send that girl 
to me. 

Miranda, [frightened] — AVhat girl ? 

Miss H. — The girl who sang at the dress-maker's, — who made mc cry. I 
want to cry. I haven't cried for such a long, long time,— not since I was a 
child in my mother's arms, Mother, mother, tell her to sing to me. 

Miranda, [soothingly, bending over her] — Yes, poor, dear lady, she shall 
sing to you. But will you be quiet, and try to sleep ? 

Miss H. [piteously]^ — Will somebody hold me in their arms while she sings ? 
I'll be quiet there. It's so long since anybody held me in their arms. [Mi- 
randa takes her in her arms and sings softly. The curtain slowly descends.] 



Act Third — Scene Second. 

{Same drawing-room. Mr. Hitchcock and Miranda discovered ; latter seated.) 

Mr. H. [pompously] — Yes, as I was saying, I don't know how to thank you 
sutficiently for your kindness to my daughter. She would have felt it quite 
dreadful to have been left in the hands of maids and nurses, and, and common 
people, you know. It's unpleasant to have common people about one ; now 
isn't it '] My daughter always objects to common people, on principle. But 
she will be very much obliged to you. Such kindness in a stranger ; and such 
a stranger ! [bows and smiles,] is really quite unexpected. 

Miranda— Oh, that is nothing ; I am glad I was here. But is she better 
to-day ? 

Mr. H. [shrugging his shoulders]— Better, I believe. The doctor says she 
is going on well ; but it will be a most tedious business ; the inconvenience 
is much to be deplored. [Miranda looks surprised.] I must go out of town. 
I am really greatly to be pitied. 

Miranda — You ? 

Mr. H. — Yes ; you have no idea. An illness of this kind is a most incon- 
venient thing. I can't stand it ; nobody could ; groaning.^ you know, noises, 
that sort of thing— unpleasant, very. My nerves are exceedingly susceptible. 
Doctor says I have a peculiar organization ; can't stand being Avaked in the 
night, or annoyed in any way. And unfortunately our rooms happen to be 



24 

on tlie same floor, I always did have a feeling, a strong feeling, that she 
might just as well have gone up another flight of stairs. But then, I suppose, 

as ii'istress of the house, However, it was very thoughtless, indeed, of 

her not to insist upon being carried up to her maid's room. But some people 
have no thought. Never can understand people's being so inconsiderate for 
others. It's a great inconvenience. I'm really to be pitied. 

Mimnda, [disgusted] — Does she suffer ? 

Mr. H.— She ? Who? Suifer ? Wliat ? Hannah, my daughter ? lam 
really not prepared to answer. I suppose people Jiiust sufl^er who meet with 
accidents. It is really inconvenient ; I am greatly to be pitied. 

Miranda, [rising indignantly] — I think poor Miss Hitchcock is fifty times 
more to be pitied than you are ! [Mr. H. looks dumbfounded.] I 'only called 
to inquire. I am glad she is improving. Good morning. [Walks towards 
door.] 

Mr. Hitchcock — I beg your pardon, ma'am ; I nearly forgot ; Lady Maria 
Leslie desired me to say she would be right down, and she wished to see you 
very much. Some singing business, I believe. 

Miranda — Oh, yes, I know : the charade. [Re-seats herself.] Very well, 
I'll wait. 

Mr. Hitchcock — Well, if you'll excuse me, I won't. Luncheon is ready. 
No use to ask you in, I suppose ? 

Miranda, [coldly] — No, thank you. 

Mr. H., [going, aside] — That's lucky ; I only ordered a couple dozen fried 
oysters, and I feel rather peckish myself, this morning. [Door opens, 1. d., 
and Lady Maria enters.] Ah, here comes tne fairest of her sex — charming, 
as usual. Lady Maria, your slave has been entertaining your guest to the 
best of his poor ability. 

Lady M. — I see she is looking bored. Pray don't let us detain you any 
longer, Mr. Hitchcock. You'll find your luncheon much better company. 
[Bows very grandly. Exit Mr. Hitchcock, 1. d.] 

Lady M., [looking after him] — Thank the Lord, he's disposed of. [To Mi- 
randa.] I'm ever and ever so glad to see you ; but I'm so sick. Can you 
smoke 1 

Miranda — Smoke ? What? Glass, or drawings, or what ? 

Lady Maria — Pipes. [Sinking languidly into a chair.] 

Miranda (amazed) — Pipes ? 

Lady Maria — Yes, of course. Not real pipes ; those are only for man — 
lucky man ! — but cigarettes. Can you smoke them ? 

Miranda — No ; indeed, I never tried. 

Lady M. — Oh, I'm so disappointed! I thought, perhaps you'd know how 
to do it without choking. The smoke always will get into my nose and choke 
me. (Confidentially) I don't mind telling you, but I wouldn't have Lady 
Claude Malvers and the rest know it for ivorlds. Its dreadfully hard work 
keeping up with oiir set. I can't smoke, and I'm afraid of real wild horses, 
and hunting dogs paw you over so ! I'd a great deal rather have a grey kitten. 

Miranda — Then why do you try it ? 

Lady M. — Why, 1 must. It's good form ; everybody does it. And some 
of the girls swear beautifully, too. Not real oaths, of course, but spirited, 
manly things, that make one seem so knowing. dear, I do envy men so ! 

Miranda — You do ? I think being a girl is delicious. 

Lady M. — I don't see it. I wish I did. And the worst of it is, girls haye 
to marry. 

Miranda, [softly] — Yes, sometimes. 

Lady M. — Sometimes ? Why, it's the thing girls are born for. 

Miranda — No, indeed ; not unless — 

Lady M. — Unless what ? 

Miranda, [embarrassed] — Surely you know what I mean. A girl must care 
for somebody very much before she consents to leave everything she loves for 
his sake. 



25 

Lady M., [disdainfullyj— Is that all you know of it .' Well. I wonder where 
you were reared ! 

Miranda — I'm sure my ideas are more common than yours. 

Lady M.— How would you like to marry that Hitchcock, then 1 

Marinda — i\larrv who ? 

Lady M.— That "Hitch cock ; the old party that just went out. 

Miranda— What, old Mr. Hitchcock, Miss Hitchcock's father ? 

Lady M.— Yes, old Mr. Hitchcock, Miss Hitchcock's father ! How would 
youlike to be that sweet young person's .step-mum ma ] 

Miranda — Why, not at all, of course. What young girl would ? 

Lidy M.— Here's the fellow that's got to do it then ! [Taps herself.] 

Miranda — Oh, nonsense ! How can you say such a thing ! 

Lady M. — I don't say I want to, but I've got to. It's expected of me, and 
I suppose I'll give in after I've had a good time flirting with the fellows. He ts 
rich, you know, and it'll be such fun snubbing that scornful Hannah. I'm 
not sure, though, but it might aggravate her move if I refused him. What do 

you think ? , ,^ i * 

Miranda.— You shouldn't let him propose at all. It must be dreadtul to re- 
fuse a man, — especially an old one. 

Lady M.— I've refused heaps of men ! [Miranda opens her eyes. J 1 like 
it : especially if they take on pretty hard, get on their knees and roll up their 
eyes ; that kind of thing, you know. It's a sort of revenge on them for being 
men when Fm only a woman. I'm going to make old Hitchy get on his knees 
Avhen he proposes to me. and keep h m there ever so long, while I make up my 
mind. And I shouldn't wonder if I say "No," after all. [Suddenly] 1 s.iy, 
that beast of yours didn't bite. 

Miranda— Beast of mine ? What can you mean ? 

Lady M.— Doesn't it belomg to you ? That wild man of the woods I carried 
off in my carriage that day. I thought it did. He ordered me around, [1 love 
to be ordered around!] and took me to a hospital here, and a house there, and 
filled up my "■thingamy,'' as he called it, with nurses and doctors, Avithout -by 
your leave," or ''with your leave," and scolded me all the time because I 
didn't want to sit for Ariel, in short hair. How T'd look in short hair ! But 
he didn't bite. I think he is a very nice beast. 

Miranda— He is very kind to Sophy and me. 

Lady M.— Has he got any name 1 AYhat do they call him ? Does he hang 
out at the Zoo? 

Miranda — His name is Gaunt. 

Lady M.— And what is he, if he's not a beast ? 

Miranda— He is an artist, a member of the Royal Academy. 

Lady M. [jumping up]— An artist, and his name Gaunt— Richard G.niiit .' 
[Miranda nods head.] Oh, you're laughing at me ? You are not going to 
tell me that that's Gaunt, the painter 1 

Afiranda — I suppose so. . , , 

Lady M [clapping hands]— Well, I am astoni.shed : never morevastonished 
in my life. So that'was Gaunt, the painter, and I had a tete-a-tete drive 
with him, and he wants to put me in the great Shaksperian picture the town 
is raving about. What an honor ! All the girls will be green with jcalou.'^y. 
I'd no more idea of it Don't you know, I'm wild about art. How glad I am 
I said he was a nice beast. [JEnter Page, witli hand organ.] What s that, 
Benjie? Oh, the hand organ. So lucky I ordered it brought in here, for 
we've forgotten all about the charade. 

Miranda— Sure enough, the charade. Describe it, please. 

Lady M.— Well the word is Ireland, and somebody has to be dreadfully an- 
o-ry That's Ire. you know. So we have that old fellow who makes pianos 
calculate and can't bear a noise ; let's see, what's his name ? It rhymes to 
something- (7a66a^fi, yes, that's it ; Cabbage, Babbagc. Well. Babbage is 
sittin"- a^his piano, makinir it play sum? ; [horrid idea, isn t it ?J when all of 



26 

a sudden all the London noises commence right under his window. There's 
where you are to come in — you're one of the noises — you sing a ballad to a 
creaky, creaky organ. How shall you like that 1 . 

Miranda — I think it'll be great fun. 

Lady iVf.— So do I ; only I call it awfully jolly. Why don't you? Great, 
fun's tame. [Mr. Cressingham is seen behind r. d.] Well, Babbnge gets into 
such a precious state of rage that he forswears earth and goes to sea to be 
quiet. And lo and behold, up comes a wind, and there's no end of a storm, 
and he's no end of a coward, and presently j^e's wrecked. So he's awfully 
glad when he gets to shore again, and throws himself flat and kisses the 
ground. Thafs Lnnd, you know. 

Miranda — Sut the sea part must be difficult to act ? 

Lady M. — Not at all. It's done with millions and millions of yards of green 
baize on rollers, and the wagonette for a ship. We just stagger up nnd down, 
like this, [imitates sailors' walk,) and try to get our — what do they call it ? — 
sea-f(?c< ? no ; sea-legs on. 

Miranda — And how do you do, Ireland 1 

Lady M — Oh that's easy enough ! We just have two processions that come 
tearing along the minute the poor old thing is safe on shore, with flags and 
stones and shillelahs and everything, and they set to work fighting, and kill 
each other right ofiF. And when there's nothing but heaps of dead men round 
him, orange heaps and green heaps — two processions and both of them dead, 
poor Baggage finds out that London is the best place after all. 

Miranda, [laughing heartily]— Oh, it will be splendid ! 

Lady M.--I did think of bringing in the two Kilkenny cats who fought till 
there was nothing left but the fluff at the ends of their tails because they 
really were Irish and it would have given an air of reality to the scene. But 
mamma said she would not be among the audience if we had fighting cats. 
Besides I don't quite see how we could have managed it ! 

Miranda — Nor I either, I'm sure ! 

Lady M — So I. suppose we had better give it up. And now, will you practice 
your song 1 I've got the most delicious hand organ: as creaky as possible, all 
out of tune, and doing everything under the sun it should'nt do— bless it ! 
And you are to sing to it, perfectly in tune. Now then ! [Lady M. turns the 
craijkand Miranda sings. Business. As the song ends, Mr. Cressingham taps 
the door lightly and walks in.] 

Lady M. [jumping up]— What, you, &&v;sin Arthur? How uncommonly 
jolly. [Mr. Cressingham takes no notice of her — but shakes hands with 
Miranda.] What could bring you here at an hour when you are not usually, 
out of bed ? 

Mr. Cressingham, [annoyed]— Nonsense ! [To Miranda tenderly] Mr. 
Hitchcock told me I should find you here, so I ventured to intrude. 

Miranda, [shyly]— I am afraid I must be going. 

Mr. Cressingham— I was fortunate in hearing your song. 

Lady M. — Oh, you've been eavesdropping, then ! 

Mr. Cressingham, [coolly]— Yes, Tve been standing outside that door for 
the last half hour listening to every word you said. 

Lady M. [tauntingly] — Hoping to hear us discuss your highness, and we 
never mentioned your name. What a sell ! 

Mr. Cressingham, [gravely]— Not at all. I should have been sorry if you 
had. To tell the truth, Maria, I was disgusted with your ideas of matrimony 
—and the vulgarity of the language you use. You are really a lady. What 
is the use of pretending you are not ? 
Lady Maria, [tossing her head] — Fudge ! 
Mr. C. — Fudge is'nt argument. 

Lady M.— No more's scolding ! Arthur, you are such a prig. 
Mr. C. — There it is again ! Every other word you use is slang. 
Lady M. [bursting into tears] — You are a mean, cross, hateful fellow, and 



27 

I won't stay here to be insulted— before a stranger, too. [Rushes to door] 
A nd yoii need'nt preach, cousin Arthur ! There are worse peccadilloes than 
slarg in this world, [exit 1. d, weeping.] 

Miranda— What did she mean ? She looked right at me. 

Mr. C. — Oh, never mind her ! [Advancing nearer] I have something to 
say to you— something I have wished to say— almost from the first moment we 
met, and I must say it now, because I am about to leave London. 

Miranda, [faltering] — To leave London ! 

Mr. C— .You may be sure I should not go, unless I was compelled. But it 
will only be a few days— on business. Nevertheless, I cannot go without 
speaking— for who knows what might happen— even in a few days ? [An 
agitated pause.] 

Miranda, [timidly]— But what is it you wish to say ? 

Mr. C— Ay, what is it ? Dare I te'U you ] Can you assure me I dare tell 
you? I have sought you here on purpose— and I stand before you— the 
veriest coward that ever crawled upon the earth ! 

Miranda — You, a coward ! 

Mr. C. — Do you believe in love at first sight ? 

Miranda— In love at first sight ] Oh no, indeed, nobody does. 

Mr. C— I do. : ) J- 

Miranda- But love must be founded on respect, esteem, knowledge of cha- 
racter. 

Mr. C. — Then why is it love— woi friendship, or calm, fraternal regard ? 
No, believe me dear,— /ors— man's love for woman, comes in a moment, divin- 
ing character and //.sg//" laying the foundation for the esteem you speak of. 

Miranda, [shyly, looking up, then down again]— Does it ? [A pause. He 
advances still closer and bends over her.] 

Mr. C— I love you ! [Miranda involuntarily extends her hands, then draws 
back again. Mr. C. catches them both in his.] 

Mr. C. — My darling, my darling, you love me ? 

Miranda, [simply, looking up "for an instant, then dropping head on his 
shoulder,] -Yes, 1 love you, I think I was born loving you ! [Tableau, No 
kissing.] 

]\tr. C, [lifting her face in both hands and looking down at it]— And now, 
my own darling, only think, I don't know your Christian name. 
■ Miranda — Miranda. 

Mr. C. — What a sweet name, and so exactly your own. But we must change 
the other part very soon ; it must not long be Miranda Stt/le. 

Miranda, [starting back in terror] -Oh, I had forgotten ! I had forgotten ! 
It's all over, all, all over ! I am not Miss Style, and you wont wish to— I 
mean, you wont like me again. I am not Miss Style ; I am an imposter. I 
am a dressmaker. 

Mr. C. — You are not Miss Style : you are an imposter ! My dear love, are 
you mad ] Or do you believe that I am a fool, and believe everything that is 
said to him ? 

Miranda, [wildly]— You must believe me; I am telling you the simple, 
miserable truth. But I didn't mean it : it was all a joke ; I never thought 
about it when I was with you ; I was thinking only about you, of course, and 
I never guessed— I never dreamed, that you— that you liked me : you know I 
didn"t ; or I would have told you at once. I never, never meant to deceive 
you an instant. Oh, you must believe me when I say that. 

Mr. C— Be calm, my dearest ; I will believe anything. But what in heav- 
en's name does it all mean ] 

Miranda — Oh, I am not your dearest : I am a dressmaker. 

Mr. C — .A dressmaker ] 

Miranda— Of course I am a lady. Papa was a clergyman, but he died so 
poor ; and Sophy did not like teaching, so we work for Mine, la Gai. 

Mr. C. — Where I met you ? 



28 

Miranda — Yes, wliere I met you ; and I went to the ball in Miss Hitchcock's 
wedding dress. 

Mr. C, [pinches h.mself, staring]--! feel the pain ; I am not asleep. Am 
I going mad 1 

Miranda, [distracted] — No, no, you are not mad ; don't look at me so ! 
You are only bearing just what I say. Oh, don't speak to me as you did to 
Maria ; I shall die if you speak to me so ! I had just finished the dress, and 
I was so silly, I put it on ; and there was a hall next door, and I slipped out 
and slipped in and followed Mrs. Nesbitt up stairs. Oh, the joy of it ! Oh, 
how beautiful it was ! 

Mr. C, [catching her in his arms] — My darling, what does it matter u>ho 
you are ? It is yourself that I love, whatever your name may tee. 

Miranda — And you love me just the same, whether I am Miss Style the 
heiress, or Miranda Maxwell, the milliner 1 

Mr. C. — Maxwell ? Did you say Maxwell ? Can it be possible that your 
father was the Rev. Mr. Maxwell, of Brookfield? 

Miranda — The very same. 

Mr. C — Then I have heard of him all my life. He was my uncle's dearest 
college friend. 

Miranda — How wonderful ! Then, after all, we are family friends. How 
delightfully everything alwuys does turn ou'- ! 

Mr. C. — Never till now — now always. AVhen once I shall have seen Miss 
Hitchcock and arranged that business, I shall give my whole heart up to the 
only real, satisfying happiness this short life of ours can ever know. ' 

Miranda, [looking up] — Short life ? It seems to me like a lovely, endless 
valley, that at last only ni'^lts into the skies. 

Mr. C, [looking at her reverently] --My thoughts are not angels' thoughts 
like yours. 

Miranda— But why did you speak of Miss Hitchcock ? What business have 
you with her, poor thing ? 

Mr. C. — My love, have you forgotten i 

Miranda — b'orgotten ? Why, was she deceived, too ? She does not sup- 
pose I am Miss Style, does she ! 

Mr. C. — Well, yes, she does ; though I don't see what that has to do with it. 

Miranda — And your cousin, Lady Maria, also"? 

Mr. 0. — Yes ; they all think so. The dress-maker evidently misled them. 
Maria told us next day she had asked if you were not a lady in disguise, and 
M'me La Gai had nodded her head and looked very wise. 

Miranda — So that is what Miss Hitchcock meant by accusing me of masquer- 
ading. I thought she knew about the wedding-dress, and was in such a 
fright ! 

Mr. C. [smiling] — See what it is to have a guilty conscience ! 

Miranda — And what iioii meant by saying I was engaged. The real Miss 
Style is engaged ; 1 saw it in the paper. 

Mr. C. — So did I ; Miss Hitchcock herself showed it to me, and her design 
nearly succeeded. Though it wasn't a fraud,, as I suspected, but a mistake, 
all around. 

Miranda — Miss Hitchcock's design ? I, I don't understand. 

Mr. C. — It's plain enough. She saw how matters stood, and she wanted to 
put a quietus on my hopes at once. 

Miranda — But why should she be so spiteful ? You never harmed her, did 
you ? 

Mr. C. — My love, have you really forgotten I was engaged to Miss Hitch- 
cock, and the empty form, it was never anything more, must be broken off ? 
I should have done it before I spoke to you, but for this unlucky accident. 

Miranda, [incredulously]— Engaged to Miss Hitchcock ? You ? 

Mr. C. — Yes, of course ; you have known it from the first : you knew it be- 
fore we met. 



29 

Miranda, [in a quick, (|uevulous tone] — }'om engaged to Miss Hitchcock? 
But Mr. Cressingliam — surely it was Mr. Crenxinyham tiiey said? 

Mr. C. [starting back]— Great God! It is not possi))lc ! you must'know 

there cannot be a doultle misunderstanding ! Why do you look so? Why do 
you speak so ? You must know that /am Arthur Cressingham / 

Miranda — You ! [A deep pause.] 

Miranda, [in a cold, hard tone] — You are Mr. Cressingham : ycu are en- 
gaged to Miss Hitchcock ? 

Mr. C. — Yes, yes. 

Miranda — Then you are not engaged to me. 

Mr. C. — My darling, don't say so. I am engaged to you , doubly, trebly 
engaged to you. 

Miranda, [drearily] — Oh, no ; you are hers : you are not mine ; I will not 
have you. 

Mr. C. — You — will — not -- have — me ? 

Miranda, [wringing her hands] — Oh, no : you are not true ; you are double 
faced. You are hers ; you are not mine ! 

Mr. C. — I am yours, by every law, human and divine, Miranda, and I will 
not give you up. 

Miranda, [reproachfully] — And my life arises from Iwr death : the death of 
her hopes and happiness ! Oh, no, never ! You have promised yourself to 
her, and you must have her. 

Mr. C. — That I will not ! I will go to her : I will ask her to release me ; 
she will consent ; [aside — she shall consent this time, by God !] and then 1 
will come to you and you will accept me. 

Miranda — No, I shall not. (Staggering towards the door.) Let me go : I 
can't bear this any longer : my heart is breaking ! 

Mr. C. (fiercely) — You have no heart ! You do not love me ! 

Miranda (quietly) — Oh, yes ; I love you ; did I not tell you so ? Love can 
not change, can it ? I suppose I shall love you forever, shall I not ? 

Mr. C. (tries to embrace her) -My darling, you shall not leave me ! 

Miranda, (avoiding him and tottering towards the door)- -Let me go ! (Mr. 
C. places himself between her and door.) 

Mr. C. — Will you marry me ? 

Miranda — No, sir ; I will not. 

Mr. C. — Because 1 am not good ? 

Miranda— Yes ; because you have deceived me, and deceived that other. 
She loves you ; oh, yes, I know very well she loves you. I will not be happy 
on her misery. 

Mr. C. (imploringly)— But I am miserable, too. Have you no thought for 
?ne, — not even a tear., Miranda ? 

Miranda, (touching her eyes)— A tear ? Am I not crying ? Ah, how hap- 
py I used to be when I cried ! I suppose I shall never shed any more tears 
again. Let me go ; let me go. 

Mr. C — Go ! But if you love me, you will return. If you do not, I must 
bear my misery as best I may. (Miranda returns slowly from door. She lays 
her hand on his arm and raises the other towards heaven, solemnly.) 

Miranda — You must mari-y her, if she will, and make her happ}', if you can, 
and then, oh, my dearest, if you do this, I think God wil! let us love each 
other in heaven ! 

[Tableau — Curtain falls.] 



80 



Act Third-.-Scene Third. 



[Miranda'' s room as before. Bliranda discovered^ in a ivldte wrapper^ pale and 
languid, sewing in rear of stage. Mrs. Green and Mr. Gaunt in front.) 

Mrs. Green, [to Mr. Gaunt] — Not a bite or sup has she took this blessed day; 
nor so much as a canary'd peck at, since I found her that evening — it's a week 
come Wednesday — a lying there in a huddle on the floor, moaning to herself 
like, and pale — ghosts aint a circumstance to her. 

Mr. Gaunt — And you can't find out the trouble ? 

Mrs. G. — She declares she's well, and she never sheds a tear, and smiles 
up in my face so cheerful, it's fit to break your 'eart ; and all day long she 
waits on her sister, and sings to her, and tidies up the room, so light-footed 
and chipper, you'd never guess anything was wrong, except for her white face 
and the queer stare she's got in her eyes, like as if she wasn't thinking of 
anything, you know. 

Mr. G. — It's a great pity that Miss Sophy is still too weak to talk to her. ' 
I suspect it's one of those wounds you womankind, with your wheedling, 
coaxing nonsense, understand better than the Avhole college of physicians. 
[Aside, fiercely.] If only I could lay my hands on the wretch who has 
played her false, what a throttling he'd get ! I knew there was a man at the 
bottom of it when her eyes got that shining light in them, and her innocent 
little face took to dimpling over with such unexpected smiles and blushes. 
And [glancing back] the Lord help the poor child ! the trail of the serpent is 
plainer than ever now. [Aloud to Miranda.] Well, my dear, since you don't 
feel strong enough to give me a sitting to-day, I'll take myself and my port- 
folio off. 

Mrs. G. — Yes, and I'll just step down to my kitchen to broil you a chicken 
wing to peck at, my lamb. Miss Sophy's coming to dinner to-day, and we 
must celebrate her recovery by somethinr"- especially splendid. 

Miranda, (rising languidly') -Ah, I had forgotten sissy was coming down 
to-day. We must make the room presentable. Will you help me to pack the 
dress to send to M'nie La Gai .^ Ifs finished at last. (Aside, mournfully) 
Finished — finished! 

Mrs. Green, (bustling around)— Surely, of course. Here's the box it came 
in, (producing large paste-board box,) and here is the dress (uncovering dress 
and taking it down from peg). I"ll fetch the underskirts in half a minute. 
(Exitr. d.) 

Mr. Gaunt. — By-the-by, you havn't seen Ariel lately, have you ? 

Miranda, [languidlyj — Ariel 1 Oh, you mean Lady Maria Leslie. No, not ■ 
for a long time : not since last Wednesday. 

Mr. Gaunt — That's just the way with these midgets of fashion. Out of 
sight, out of mind. I thought I saw something better in her face. Heaven 
knows it was pretty enough "for an angel's ! [Sighs,] But they are all tarred 
with the same stick — daubed with the same paint brush, perhaps I'd better 
say, seeing they are ladies of fashion. [During this remark, the c. d. has 
opened, and Lady Maria stands listening ] 

Lady Maria, [entering gaily, followed by Lady Leslie] — Who"s that malig- 
ning us so cruelly 1 We are just in time to defend ourselves. Mumsey, this 
is Mr. Gaunt, the great ]\[r. Gaunt, and his bark is a great deal worse than his 
bite ! [They bow and converse in pantomime.] 

Lady M. [running back to Miranda and leading her forward] — Did my dear 
soprano really think I had forgotten her ? When I came back that afternoon 
and found you gone so unexpectedly, I was for following you on the spot, but 



ai 



81 

Arthur prevented me. But now that I know all — a dozen Arthurs would not 
prevent me from coming to tell you what a dear little heroine you are, and 
how I love you ! 

Miranda, [stirting back]— All ? 

Lady M. — Yes, all ! How you accepted him and refused him, so I flew on 
the jvings of the wind, being Ariel you know Mr. Gaunt ; and here I am. 
[Confidentially] And oh, my dear, I must tell you ; its too gooil to keep ; old 
Hitchy popped this very morning, knees and all, and L left liini there 1 did 
indeed!— and sent mamma to tell him I could'nt possibly; so he took the noon- 
train for Scotland, audits good riddance of bad rubbish ! [Looking at her 
suddenly] How pale and sick you look, dear ! But I've brought you some 
company that will bring the color to those pretty cheeks again ! Why, see 
how she trembles! Come Mr. G .unt, you promised to show me your studio 
sometime, and Fm dying to see it— so is mamma. Show us now, please, and 
let us leave Miss Maxwell in peace to receive her company. 

Mr. Gaunt, [smiling] — Why, what an impetuous young person it is ? But if 
I show you my studio, its only on condition you give me the sittings I asked 
for — not one mind you ; but as many as I want. [To audience] And it will 
go hard with Richard Gaunt if that's all he asks for, and gets too, before the 
picture is finished! [Looking at her earnestly] Come, is it a bargain? 
[Lady Maria hesitates a moment, looks down, then up, at last, coquettishly.] 

Lady M. — Ask Mamma ! 

Lady Leslie, [shocked]— My dear ! [Mr. Gaunt gives an arm to each lady 
and leads them oif triumphantly, 1. d.] 

Miranda, [standing in centre of stoge and listening breathlessly.] — AVhat 
can she mean? Who is coming! Oh, my heart, my heart! [Enter Miss 
Hitchcock, c. d. Miranda falls back a step, gazing at her alarmed.] 

Miss Hitchcock, [gently]— Are you afraid of me. Miss Maxwell ! [Miranda 
tries to speak, but can not.] 

Miss H. [advancing and taking her hand] — Surely you are not afraid of me? 

Miranda— No, I am not afraid of you, Miss Hitchcock. There is no reason 
why I should be ? 

Miss H. — Scarcely. I have come to thank you for watching by me when no 
one else would. The doctor says you saved my life. 

M. — Did I really ? I nm very glad. 

Miss H. — Gl-xl ? And yet my life stood in the way of your own happiness. 

Miranda — As if tliat would make any difference ! 

Miss H. [gently] — And is that all I have to thank you for ? Or did you try 
to preserve something else for me, more precious still ? [Miranda is much 
embarrassed.] 

Miss H. [advancing and throwing an arm round her] — My dear during that 
long, peaceful sleep, to which your soft voice lulled me, I think my good angel 
came and took away my stormy, rebellious heart and gave me in its stead an 
humbler one. better able to appreciate angelic goodness and generosity. [Kisses 
her forehead.] When I awoke, it was with a new realization of life, and a new 
object for my fnture, if indeed any future was to be mine. And I realized 
nothing so plainly as that Arthur Oressingham and Hannah Hitchcock made a 
great mistake when they promised to marry one another. [Miranda catches 
back of chair, listening intently.] And so the first thing I did when he re- 
turned to town this morning, Avas to send for him, and tell him so. 

Miranda — But you love him. I know it : I feel it! 

Miss H. (interrupting her by a gesture) — Yes, you are right ; I love him ; I 
ahvays loved him ; I shall always love him. But to marry him would break 
my heart— WOK' .' Love is not all of life, believe me, whatever the poets say. 
There. are other duties and other joys for us who have missed the sweetest. 
I shall find my niche in the world, and be happy there : do not fear for vie. 
And you^ (turning to side) Arthur, come and tell this little girl what her 



32 

niche in life is to be ! (Enter Arthur, c. d. The lovers stand looking at each 
other a moment.) 

Mr. C. — Do you reject me again, Miranda? 

Miranda, (laying her hand in his) — No : I am yours forever, since you are 
free to be mine. 

Miss H. — And see, here lies your wedding-dress ! (Picking up dress.) 
It is a perfect fit, you know, and only requires this (taking veil and wreath 
from table) to be complete. (Puts veil, etc., on Miranda.) 

Miranda — So you know that, too ? 

Miss H. — Yes ; I know all, all. (Advancing between them, and clasping 
their hands in hers.) And I know also, that the love which commences 
in self-abnegation, and is founded on a mutual esteem and confide .ce, ends 
only where that higher love, which endureth forever, begins ! 

Mrs. Green, (entering r. d , skirts over arm) -Here they are (starts 

back.) Stars and garters and little fishes ! [Retreating.] I ax your par- 
don. Miss. I didn't know there were strangers here. 

Miranda, [turniug around] — Is that you, dear Mrs. Green 1 Don't go ; 
there are no strangers here : we are all friends. 

Mr. Gaunt, [entering, followed by Lady Maria] — If that's the case, we may 
as well come too ! [Advancing to xM.] My dear young lady, I'm glad to see 
your color is improved. [Indicating Mr. Cressingham] I guess for your dis- 
ease there is but one kind of medicine necessary — and I hope [shaking hands] 
ifs good effects will last through life ! 

Lady M. [saucily] — Don't mind his calling you a dose^ cousin Arthur ! Fm 
a dose, too — and he's taken me ! [Puts hand in Mr. Gaunt's ] 

[Lady Leslie — appearing at c. d. — holds up hands in mute horror.] 

Mr C. [advancing towards Lady L.] — Don't be shocked, annt Leslie, she's 
Ariel, you know, "a tricksy sprite." Reconcile yourself to the inevitable. 
Love is a contagious disease, they say. Come, let me introduce to you your 
niece — my wife, that is to be ! [Leads her to Miranda, who embraces her 
affectionately.] 

Lady M. — And since introductions are in order, Mr. Gaunt, let me intro- 
duce you to your — ghost ! (Introduces Miranda.) 

Mr. Gaunt and Mrs. Green, (simultaneously) — Ghost ! 

Miranda — Ah, my friends, I've a long, beautiful fairy tale to tell you, one 
of these days — a new Cinderella story, full of ghosts and fairies and enchant- 
ment — but, meantime, let me introduce to you the Prince, (slipping hand in 
Mr. C's arm J and (putting hand around Miss H's waiat) the Fairy God- 
mother ! (Curtain falls.) 



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